Agent Rodgers, FBI
by Shutterbug5269
Summary: After Alexis' untimely death from leukemia, Rick puts away his crime novels and joins the FBI. After a friend's deadly brush with the Dragon, he vows to solve his murder and bring the perpetrator to justice. To do it he will need the help of NYPD Detective Kate Beckett. (Cannot believe I finished this on the anniversary of JB's murder)
1. Prologue

**Agent Rodgers, FBI  
Prologue**

Alexis Castle had been diagnosed with Leukemia when she was six years old.

The first thing the chemo did (aside from making her sick to her stomach) was make all of her red hair fall out. She tried to keep up a brave face through it all for her father, but the chemo tore though her already small body like wildfire. He had broken off his affair with Sophia Turner shortly after Alexis was diagnosed. She had been disappointed, of course, but she seemed to understand. His daughter had to come first.

During the next two years Richard Castle rarely left the loft except to take her to her oncologist's office for the routine injections. He wrote while she slept or played games on her computer. He had never been so timely with his manuscripts.

The first Derek Storm novel had come out to great fanfare. The release party had been one of the few that he had made since she was diagnosed, simply because for once she had been well enough to attend it with him. He had had a beautiful wig made that perfectly matched the color of her red hair and her makeup professionally done so she wouldn't feel self conscious at the party. He knew she didn't want anyone's pity. For a very brief time she was the bubbly little girl she used to be. Reveling in her father's success and all of the positive attention she received from the grownups in the room.

**January 9th 2002**

"Alexis!" Richard Castle yelled from the stairs, "Pumpkin! Time to get up sleepyhead!"

There was no answer.

Castle walked up the stairs, worry creeping into his voice. "Alexis!"

He took the remaining stairs two at a time.

"Alexis!"

When he threw open the door to her room, she looked for all the world like she was simply asleep, curled up in her bed a small smile on her gaunt little face. She had obviously slipped away peacefully in her sleep during the night. Her body was cold to the touch.

"Oh God, no please.. no!" he sobbed, as he pulled her to his chest, tears running down his face.

She was gone.

Her funeral a few days later was a small solemn affair, attended by only a few people he knew well. (Paula had worked her witchy PR powers and managed to keep the paparazi at bay) Among them was his mother, Martha, and Alexis' mother Meredith, bemoaning the fact that she was supposed to have visited the week before Alexis died but took a guest spot on a TV series instead. She broke down over her white marble headstone and wept uncontrollably. Richard didn't even have it in him to feel contempt for her any longer. Only a wave of intense pity.

….

For the next year after he had buried his daughter on that cold January day, he worked feverishly, tirelessly on the second, (and final) Derek Storm novel, Storm Fall. It released to massive accolades and fanfare as he announced his retirement from writing. It had the following dedication:

**For Alexis.  
10/4/1994-1/9/2002  
Goodnight, my little angel.**

Little did his multitudes of adoring fans know that the day after she died, he had his lawyer legally change his name back to Richard Alexander Rodgers, and had hers retroactively changed too. She had wanted her privacy in her short life, he would make certain she had it in death.

The week after the last book signing, he received his acceptance letter for the FBI training academy in Quantico, Virginia. He booked a one way plane ticket to Richmond, locked the door to the loft and didn't look back.

**February 14th 2006**

FBI Special Agent Richard Rodgers hated Valentine's Day. It always seemed to remind him of his daughter, and all of the little things she used to do every year before she was diagnosed. He still kept the box containing everything she had ever made for him. On days like this he took the day off, got drunk and looked through them all. It always turned out the same way, he'd curse himself for keeping them, then very carefully pack them back in the box, and return it to the top shelf of the closet in his small Washington DC apartment.

He could afford a much bigger place, but he rarely touched the residual money from his books from Black Pawn Publishing. It kept the loft in New York paid for, as he would never give the place up. Her memory would always be alive there. Besides, occasionally his mother or Meredith would need a place to stay when going to visit her grave. He lived meagerly on his FBI Agent's salary. It suited him now.

Tomorrow, he would have to sober up and start his first day as Special Agent in Charge of a newly formed serial killer task force. He'd be meeting his new partner, Agent Jordan Shaw in the morning. She seemed like a pretty straight shooter, got top marks at Quantico and came highly recommended as a profiler. She had been in the Bureau longer, but he had spent his time out in the field chasing bank robbers, kidnappers, and terrorists while she spent most of hers in the behavioral sciences division. Had she spent more time in the field, he'd probably be reporting to her.

He'd be grooming her for his job before he was done. His quick rise in the Bureau had most people who knew him certain that somebody was "looking out for him" he had no idea who that might be, as he'd given up any belief in a higher power after Alexis died. It was in her memory that he took the most relentless care in chasing down kidnappers of children. He more than owed her memory that much.

On his way to bed, he ran his fingers through the neatly trimmed Van Dyke beard he had grown to disguise his features after graduating from the academy. The last thing he needed was to be recognized for his former life as a best selling crime novelist. Too many of his academy classmates had asked about the resemblance.

That life had ended with his daughter's. He was done with it.


	2. Enter the Dragon

**Chapter One  
Enter the Dragon**

**May 2nd 2007**

Rick's former training officer, Jacob Newstead had come to see him a week ago. He had found a new lead, or so he said, about the actual killer of his partner, Robert Armen back in 1997. He had never believed that the man had been killed by Vincent Pulgotti. Killing a fed was just not the mobster's style, it would have been just too stupid a thing for an experienced mob hit-man to do, according to Jake. Especially so close to his own club, with cops and the FBI staking out his very doorstep.

Rick always humored his old friend when he came over. From personal experience, he knew that grief did funny things to people. _'Like run off and join the FBI',_ he thought sardonically to himself. The case had been closed almost air tight. Though a civil rights attorney named Johanna Beckett had certainly tried to get him acquitted. She didn't have too many fans in the FBI, for obvious reasons.

She may have even succeeded in getting him a new trial, had she not been subsequently stabbed to death in what the NYPD reported as an act of "random gang violence" in the same alley, on January 9th 1999. '_Three years to the day before Alexis died.'_ his grieving mind supplied. She'd left behind a husband and a 19 year old daughter for whom he had great sympathy.

Jake had gotten it into his head now that the Armen and Beckett murders were somehow connected by a shadowy figure in the underworld he nicknamed "The Ghost." He had managed to get himself assigned to the FBI field office in New York City, and took a grade reduction to field agent and a pay cut to do it. He'd made little secret about what he was going to be doing in his spare time.

Nobody seemed to care if he wanted to commit career suicide chasing "ghosts" as long as he did his job, kept his nose clean and didn't embarrass the Bureau on his way out. For his friend's sake, Rick hoped he was right, that he would find some way to be vindicated. Maybe then he'd find some peace.

**September 21st 2007**

An article on page two of the New York Times read:

**FBI Agent found dead in Washington Heights **

FBI Agent Jacob Newstead was found dead last night  
in an alley in Washington Heights of an apparent self  
inflicted gunshot wound to the head. According  
to sources within the FBI, the twice decorated agent  
had been greatly troubled by the death of his partner,  
Robert Armen who had been murdered in the line of duty  
by Mob enforcer Vincent Pulgotti in 1987.  
He left no known next of kin

Notably he was found in the same alley where the body  
of slain civil rights attorney Johanna Beckett was discovered  
in 1999. Her murder is still unsolved

Special Agent Richard "Buck" Rodgers (a nickname he receied due to the high tech gadgets his section was famous for using and a passing resemblance to a bearded Gil Gerard) knew a whitewash when he saw one. There was no way Jake had killed himself. The phone message he had received from him the day before his death left no room for doubt as to his high spirits, he had been on to something, he'd said. The ghost had been somebody big, someone important in government circles. He was getting close to the truth, to a name. Obviously too close.

He had received a package from Jake that morning via messenger service that had removed all doubt. It was everything that his friend had uncovered. These weren't the crazy ramblings of an obsessed paranoid man. The notes were meticulously detailed, accompanied by copies of NYPD case files and photos where applicable. Jake had approached this exactly the way the man had taught him to investigate a case and document his findings.

Two names seemed to come up over and over again. NYPD Detectives Raglan and McCallister. The officers who had arrested Pulgotti. Also a large number of gangland kidnappings attributed to a group known only as "The Ghost Crew" a name awfully reminiscent of the nickname he had given to the unknown subject he was sure had actually been responsible for the Armen/Beckett murders.

He had even made a note that the coincidence of the name was probably just that, a coincidence. Rick had nearly forgotten just how good an agent Jake had been till he read that.

Rick ran every page of the files including the images thorough the document scanner on his computer, saved everything to a flash drive, then purged his hard drive of the information. In the morning he would dutifully turn over Jake's files to his superiors in the J. Edgar Hoover Building.

At least he could save his dead friend's reputation. Perhaps get a murder investigation going. He had all the proof he needed to show his friend had NOT killed himself.

Or so he thought, anyway.

**November 29th 2008**

FBI internal memo addressed to Special Agent Richard A. Rodgers:

Effective immediately your appointment as Special Agent in Charge of  
the Serial Murder Task Force is formally rescinded. You are hereby  
ordered to turn over all relevant materials pertaining to said office to  
Special Agent Jordan Shaw no later than end of business day 30 November 2008.  
You shall be placed on administrative leave without pay pending  
formal review.

Cause cited: Dereliction of duty and insubordination.


	3. Homeward Into Exile

**Chapter Two  
****Homeward Into Exile**

**December 10th 2008**

It had been ten days since Richard Rodgers had surrendered his sidearm and credentials to the Director of Operations in the J. Edgar Hoover building. His repeated demands for an in depth investigation of Jake's death over the past year had obviously garnered him the attention of the wrong people. People placed highly enough to subvert standard due process protocols, remove him from his position and have him suspended from active duty. Possibly the same people who had killed Jake. His friend's downward slide in the Bureau hierarchy was now beginning to make sense to him. For now, unfortunately there was nothing for him to do but wait.

Waiting patiently had never been his strong suit, not when he was a little boy, not when he was playboy mystery writer Richard** _Freaking_ **Castle, and most especially not _now_. He preferred to be busy these last few years. Too much idle time and he began to think about what was missing in his life. Namely a spunky little girl with wavy fire red hair...

"**_No!"_** He admonished himself quietly "I will **_not_** go there.. not tonight!" not realizing he had said the words out loud.

Christmas Eve was soon enough for that. The week between Christmas and New Year's Day, Meredith, his mother and himself would gather in the loft in New York. At least for one week he wouldn't have to mourn his baby bird alone. It had become a yearly event like clockwork. They'd get out all of her pictures, soccer trophies and assorted nicknacks, pass them around and remember the light that was now missing in their lives.

It struck him as odd that he no longer had a problem drinking himself into oblivion with his mother and his ex-wife (the former deep fried twinkie) when all three of them could barely stand to be in the same room together when Alexis was alive. In a strange twisted way he thought his little pumpkin would be secretly pleased that the three most important adults in her life could now get along, if only for a few days during the silly season mixed with shared grief and liberal amounts of alcohol.

Before he could become lost in his reverie, there was a loud knock on his door. He wasn't expecting anyone at this hour. He opened a drawer in his coffee table, slid out the .45 caliber Glock he kept there and chambered a round. Satisfied, he walked slow and quiet to the door, slid off the chain and cracked it open.

"Delivery for Richard Rodgers." the bicycle messenger called out.

Rick engaged the safety on his Glock, slid it behind his back in the waistband of his jeans and tugged the back of his shirt down to conceal it. Seeing no sense in scaring the bejesus out of a poor guy who was just doing his job.

He opened the door the rest of the way and was greeted with a medium sized box wrapped in plain brown paper with a stylus and digital clipboard on top of it. He signed the form and tipped the messenger generously. The young man smiled broadly at the fifty dollar bill, blissfully unaware of how near he had come to being shot. When the courier left, Rick closed and locked the door. He sat down on his couch, unwrapped and opened the black pistol carry case inside to reveal his FBI issue Sig Sauer, his ejected full clip, FBI credentials and a note which read:

_**The people you're hunting are not the only ones  
with resources. You have friends in higher places  
than you know. Your next assignment will set you on  
the right path. Keep digging.  
R. A. Webb**_

**January 2rd, 2009**

Richard Rodgers strode confidently out of the elevator into the 12th Precinct bullpen for the first time, with the confident swagger borne of years spent as a federal agent. He turned to a young female uniformed officer with short-cropped blond hair, whose name pin read Velasquez and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Excuse me Officer..um Velasquez is it?" he asked as a casual smile creased his lips (the kind he would have used in a past life at a book signing) "Could you direct me to the Captain's office?"

"And you would be..." Velasquez began to ask in a crisp professional manner.

He smiled a little more broadly, and pulled out his credentials, unfolding them crisply.

"Sorry officer, Special Agent Richard Rodgers, FBI. I have an appointment with Captain Montgomery."

NYPD Captain Roy Montgomery was sitting at his desk looking over the day's activity logs, and personnel assignments when Officer Velasquez knocked on his doorway (his door was almost never closed) and poked her head inside.

"Captain, there's an Agent Rodgers here to see you sir." she said with slight disdain, feds usually meant trouble.

"Send him in, Velasquez, I've been expecting him."

The Agent who walked in the door did not present the appearance of the washed up burnout that his FBI personnel file had suggested. His suit and tie were crisply pressed and pin straight. He stood erect with none of gaunt bloodshot appearance one typically found in someone who had seen one crime scene too many. The feature that surprised him the most were his eyes.

Though the rest of his face and body language exuded an almost automatic warmth and good cheer, his eyes betrayed a deep seated sadness that he'd seen often enough as a homicide detective. This man had experienced loss on a deep personal level. Like part of his life, part of his soul was simply...missing.

The easy warmth of the smile he directed at Velasquez never made it to his eyes. He could tell that this was a man who at one time had not only smiled, but laughed warmly and often, but now could only pantomime the gestures, without the warmth that went with them.

He found himself feeling sympathy almost to the point of pity for the man, as his gaze shifted momentarily to the photos of his wife and kids on his desk. He found himself wondering whom this man had lost that had taken his inner warmth away.

He shook off the introspection, and disguised it as an up and down inspection of the man before him.

"So," Montgomery finally stated, "You're our token fed."

"I guess that's one way to put it," Rick replied. The mirthless smile back again in full force.

"As it was explained to me, Captain, it's part of a proposed pilot program embedding a federal agent at the local level to be a liaison in times of necessity. If an incident should arise that's within federal jurisdiction or terrorist activity is suspected, either myself or Homeland Security Agent Mark Fallon would take point."

"In a case where Agent Fallon, or another federal task force is in charge, I would act as your liaison within that command structure. Otherwise you are free to use me as a resource as you see fit. Consider me an additional detective that your operational budget doesn't have to pay for. I am one hundred percent federally funded."

"Pardon me a moment, Agent Rodgers," Montgomery said as he stepped around him and waved at someone behind him. "Beckett, in my office please?"

As the captain once again stepped back around his desk, Rick felt a presence approach him from behind. He turned around and his vision locked on a slender young woman with short auburn bobbed hair and green-flecked brown eyes. She was strikingly, simplistically beautiful.

Eight years ago he would have been quick with a witty come-on, but now he was more guarded more closed off. He waited for the Captain to make the introductions.

"Special Agent Richard Rodgers, meet Detective Kate Beckett"

Rick put his hand out automatically, the charming smile once again apparent. It was the boyish lopsided grin that had generally made all the fan-girls swoon, back when he was Rick Castle and his eyes knew how to carry warmth. She was unimpressed, but took his hand and shook it anyway.

The spark of electricity when her hand came into contact with his was so intense, it was all Rick Rodgers could do to keep from snatching it back as if burned. For a split second he felt something stir within him but then she pulled her hand back and it was gone.

"Beckett, meet your new partner." and suddenly a furrow knit her brow and her eyes lit with indignation.

"Captain, can we talk in private?" she asked, barely concealing her anger.

"Nope, that's an order."

"I can see that this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship." Rick quipped dryly

**January 9th 2009**

Kate Beckett and her father were just about done placing their flowers at her mother's grave when she thought she saw a familiar person enter the cemetery out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to get a better look, and much to her chagrin, and her rising annoyance level, she realized, that yes, indeed it was Special Agent Richard Rodgers.

It was bad enough that he had to be assigned to her her precinct. Bad enough that he had been foisted upon her as her partner when the Captain knew she did her best work solo. To top it off, there was the nervous anxious feeling that she had seen him somewhere before. He looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. It made her frustrated and she didn't do well with frustrated.

Yesterday she had caught sight of him down in the archives when he thought she had gone to lunch. He'd been looking at her mother's case file. HER. Mother's. CASE It had made her so angry that she had to ask to take a long lunch so she could cool down.

Now he had followed her here of all places, intruded on her time with her father on the anniversary of her mother's death. The one day out of the whole stinking year that she took a personal day to deal with her grief alone with her dad. She could see that he had a bouquet of flowers in his hand and an enclosed votive candle.

"Why couldn't he just mind his own business?" she hissed under her breath so her dad couldn't hear She was about to rise from where she was sitting on the ground to go confront him, when he turned left toward the other side of the cemetery and continued away from where she and her father sat. He had passed within ten feet of her, but gave no indication that he had even seen her. Now that she realized he hadn't come to intrude upon her shared grief with her father, her unyielding curiosity got the better of her. Why was he here?

She placed a reassuring hand on her dad's shoulder to let him know she would be back in a moment and quietly crept in the direction where the cold, steely eyed FBI agent had gone. The small knoll was so secluded she nearly walked past it at first, but then caught sight of him on his knees arranging the two small bouquets of artificial roses pushing the stake of the enclosed votive into the ground and lighting it.

It seemed like a well established routine, much like the one she and her father had, but then she caught sight of his face in profile and her heart sunk in her chest. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. He was crying! Suddenly her heart was burning with shame for what she had intruded upon. Witnessing his private grief. His deep gut wrenching sorrow. Her heart softened for the man. Perhaps the two of them really weren't so different after all.

When she saw him begin rise to his feet and wipe away his tears, she hid until she saw him walk toward the exit of the cemetery and disappear. She quickly ran back to her mother's stone and pulled a single white Lily of the Valley from the flower arrangement she had brought .and returned to the small knoll. As she drew near enough to the small white headstone to read the inscription her heart nearly stopped in her chest. It wasn't a wife or a lover at all, she realized, it was so much worse.

**Alexis Marie Rodgers**  
**"Good night baby bird"**  
**10/4/1994-1/9/2002**

_'Oh God,' _she thought to herself, '_I've misjudged him so very badly_' Losing her mother was hard enough, but to lose a child so young, it tore at her heart. The absolute agony the man must carry around was now so clear to her, _why hadn't she seen it?_ She placed the lily on the base of the small headstone and fled. Her small gesture seeming somehow inadequate in the face of her new partner's overwhelming grief. She swore to herself that she would try to be a little more understanding the next time she saw him.


	4. Partners

**Chapter Three  
****Partners  
**

Special Agent Richard Rodgers stood alone in the 12th Precinct shooting range. The booming report from his .40 caliber Sig Sauer echoed through the place as he emptied first one clip reloaded, then another into alternately the center of the X ring and the center of the head of a target silhouette at the farthest reaches of the range.

As he fired through his last loaded clip for the Sig, he ejected the spent mag and dropped it on the table in front of him. From his back holster he produced his .45 caliber Glock, and opened up again. When the paper target was so shredded that half of it fell to the floor, he replaced it with a fresh one. His breathing was still coming in shallow angry gasps, in spite of the control of he exhibited with his weapons.

His first official case with the NYPD had been a heart wrenching child kidnapping case. A four year old girl with asthma who's father worked as a bank manager. Over the past week he had taken point during the negotiations. They'd gotten proof of life, but the parents didn't have the liquid capital to pay the ransom demand and the bank had a policy against paying out in these cases.

He'd slipped away from Beckett and gone to his bank. Not the credit union for his FBI payroll, but his _"other"_ bank, where he withdrew the entire ransom demand from his Black Pawn money, a drop in the bucket, really. In non-sequential bills as instructed. Ryan had asked jokingly where he got it, but he sidestepped the issue. Beckett shadowed the mother through Central Park dressed as a jogger as she made the drop, but the kidnappers didn't release the girl.

When they'd traced them back to their hideout using the GPS tracking device in the duffel bag (these kidnappers really were amateurs at this) he found out why. The girl had had a massive asthma attack and had suffocated in the linen closet they had stashed her in to pick up the ransom money. He completely lost it when he saw the girl's body. It had taken not only Beckett, but Ryan and Esposito as well to drag him away from the man responsible.

Child kidnapping cases always had an emotional effect on him. He'd get single minded and nearly relentless in his pursuit to bring the child back alive and make sure the kidnappers were caught and punished severely. If it came to a choice, though, he always chose the life of the child over catching the kidnapper. To him it wasn't really a choice. Every year he got Christmas cards from the children he'd helped recover. They were the only ones he ever opened.

Beckett had offered to inform the girl's parents, she had eased up on him considerably in the past two weeks and he was touched that she would want to take this weight off of his shoulders, but he chose to break the bad news himself. As a father who had lost a child he understood their pain better than most, because he shared it.

She had come with him, of course, in a show of support for her partner. The look she gave him when he had turned his haunted eyes on her was the softest most tender look of empathy he had been directed at him since the medical examiner (a young woman named...Parrish if he remembered right) had zipped his daughter into a body bag seemingly a lifetime ago.

His hands shook with pent up rage. He'd tried the exercise room first, walked through the forms of Karate, Jiujitsu, then Krav Maga and when that had done nothing to help him find his center he wound up here. His hands shook so badly he couldn't get the loose rounds to slide into the magazine of his Sig. So intent was he on his task that he hadn't noticed Beckett had come looking for him.

Word had gotten out around the precinct that _"Beckett's pet fed"_ was on a tear, first in the exercise room then at the shooting range. It hadn't taken long before the gossip got back to her. She bristled at the term "pet fed" the moment it came out of Hastings' mouth. He was her partner and a member of her team, and she didn't like Hastings' tone. A sentiment that was shared by both Ryan and Esposito.

Like everybody else, they had been apprehensive at first about having a federal agent on the team, but he and the boys had bonded over this case when they saw how dedicated he was to getting the girl back, and how enraged he had become when they learned that she was dead.

"He has a _name_ you know, _learn it_!" Kate had shouted loud enough for the entire bullpen to hear. "He's a member of my team and _by God_ you are going to treat him like one!" The looks she got from both Ryan and Espo told her they had her back on this. He was a fed, but he was _their_ fed. She fixed her death glare on Hastings who had the good sense to at least _appear_ ashamed of herself, collected her coat and purse and stalked for the elevator.

She slipped into the booth beside him, gently took the empty magazine out of his hands and slipped the loose rounds into it one at a time. Repeating the process with his two backup mags then the two for his Glock. She knew what it felt like to see a case go horribly wrong. She had been down this road more than once chasing a lead on her mother's murder only to see it go nowhere.

Courtesy of her epiphany in the cemetery two weeks ago, she knew this case was pushing all of the wrong buttons in her partner. It had tapped into the sense of loss he felt for the little girl who was buried there. She could see it written all over his face. A face she still found vaguely, hauntingly familiar.

"Thanks." he said, as he slid a magazine into his Glock, engaged the safety and returned it to his back holster, slipping the spare mag into its pouch.

"It's what partners do." she said quietly watching him do the same with his Sig and it's two spare magazines. She put on eye and ear protection as he pulled back the on the action of his Sig.

"Why the artillery and not a nine?"

She couldn't help but draw a comparison with the FBI agent she had dated a few years before, Will Sorenson, who carried a 9mm Glock.

"I was issued a 9mm Glock like everybody else at the academy." he began, as he ran out the new target.

"My first day as a wet-behind-the-ears field agent we caught a domestic terror case. Abortion clinic fire bombings. We had the bomber cornered, and I was assigned to watch the back door to cut off his escape route. Guy came tear-assing out the back door at me with a machete. I don't know what he was on, but I emptied the whole clip into him and he still kept coming."

Kate shuddered involuntarily, she'd learned the hard way in Vice that people hopped up on stimulants could be scary strong as Rick continued his story.

"The HRT sniper took him out, or I woulda been dead on the spot. The _very next day_, I turned my Glock 19 in for a Sig Sauer P229 and _never_ looked back. I bought the Glock 30 a couple years later as a backup."

Rick brought his Sig up into the Weaver stance, sighted on the target and squeezed off three rounds, straight through the middle of the X ring, leaving a single very large hole.

"From that day on, when I put somebody down, they _stay_ there."

As he brought his gun back, thumbed the safety and holstered it, Kate saw her opening and pressed on.

"This was more than just a case to you, wasn't it? I saw the look you gave the victim's parents, you share their pain."

Rick looked at the floor for a moment, caught between a lie and the truth, and decided to go with the truth. He pulled out his wallet, fished a school photo out of it and handed it to Kate.

"Her name was Alexis." he closed his eyes for a moment to force back the tears welling there.

"When she was six, she was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia. She was on two separate runs of chemo over the course of two years. One night she went to bed and when I went to wake her up the next morning, she was gone, her brief candle snuffed out before it's time."

Kate handed him back the photo, finally able to put a face to the name on the stone, blinking back tears of her own. This was the little girl who had once breathed sunshine into his world, and when she was gone left only shadows behind. She knew the feeling well, and now realized that it was no coincidence that Captain Montgomery had thrown them together.

He was turning to leave, when she reached out her hand and and stopped him. He had been honest with her, she felt he deserved the same.

"About ten years ago, we were supposed to go to dinner," she began in a hushed voice, "my mom, my dad and I. She was gonna meet us at the restaurant but she never showed. Two hours later we went home and there was a detective waiting for us...Detective...Raglan."

The case file Jake had sent him swam unbidden into Rick's mind. One of the names that kept popping up was a Detective Raglan. It couldn't be a coincidence. He nodded his understanding as she continued.

"They found her body...she had been stabbed."

"A robbery?" Rick asked. He already knew the answer, but knew she needed to finish.

"No...she still had her money and purse and her jewelry...and it wasn't a sexual assault either." Kate took in a ragged breath, blinking back more tears and continued

"They attributed it to random gang violence...random wayward event. Unlike you, they couldn't think outside the box, so they just tried to package it up nicely..and her killer was never caught. My dad took her death hard. He's sober now...five years."

She smiled weakly at that before pointing to the man's watch on her left wrist.

"I wear this for the life I saved" then pulled a gold chain out from the collar of her shirt, revealing a woman's wedding band on the end of it, "and this is for the life that I lost." a single tear coursed down her cheek.

"That was you and your father at the cemetery, wasn't it?" Rick asked

"Yeah," Kate replied, "we go every year."

"I hadn't been in a while," Rick said quietly, "My mother lives here, she usually comes out on the 9th and takes care of things. After I got the transfer orders, I figured I'd do it myself this year."

"So, Rodgers, you've hit the exercise room and now shooting range, where are you headed next?" Kate asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Home, I guess, there's a glass of Scotch and a warm bed with my name on em." He replied, "You?"

"A glass of wine, a hot bath, and a good book." Kate replied.

"Good night, Kate."

"Night, Rick."

**Two hours later**

**Kate Beckett's Apartment**

Kate Beckett finished lighting the various scented candles she kept in her bathroom, slid off her light satin robe and stepped slowly into her tub. She sighed softly as she lowered her tired body into the water and reached for the book she had chosen for the evening. Richard Castle's swan song, Storm Fall. She waited a few moments for her muscles to begin to relax in the hot water and suds before she opened the book to the dedication page.

**For Alexis.  
10/4/1994-1/9/2002  
Goodnight, my little angel.**

Her eyes went wide as the realization dawned. All of a sudden, it hit her why the date on the tombstone had seemed so familiar. It was right here before her in black and white. She closed the book and looked at the photo of a smiling Richard Castle on the back of the dust cover. Now that she was really looking at it, the smile on his face also never reached his eyes, in her mind she added a Van Dyke beard and saw the face of her new partner.

She had wondered for eight years where Richard Castle had gone, and why he had stopped writing. Now she had her answer. It was the same reason she had quit law school, given up on her dreams and became a cop. In those dark times, his words had saved her life, filled her with a new purpose.

Three years later his own tragedy had struck, and his words could neither save him nor bring him comfort in his darkest hour as they had for her. She gingerly set the book down and wept bitterly for the man. The true scope of the tragedy that had befallen him now fully laid bare before her. A tragic tale made even more poignant to her because it mirrored her own.


	5. The Better Part of Valor

**Chapter Four  
The Better Part of Valor**

Rick Rodgers stood in front of his digital murder board, contemplating his work. The last time he had used this particular piece of technology had been while writing Storm Fall. It was well out of date by his former task force's standards but it's what he had on hand.

A familiar ache had come over him when he first turned it on, as the book mockup was still on it, turned to the dedication page. He remembered the last time he had looked at it with absolute clarity. It had been the week before he entered Quantico, he had been diligently removing all traces of Richard Edgar Castle from the loft and placing them in storage.

The only relics of his old life that remained when he was done were his laptop, (Which he had performed a full factory re-set on) the information on this board and his books on the bookshelf. He had stared at it for nearly an hour, agonizing over whether to fully purge the board's memory like he had done on the laptop. In the end, he could not bring himself to do so. To delete this, would have been like purging her from his life, which, even now was too painful to contemplate, so he had merely turned it off, covered it with a sheet and walked out the door.

For the better part of the night after parting company with Kate at the shooting range, he had uploaded all of Jake's data from the flash drive he had copied his files to. He cross referenced it with the files he had researched on the Armen murder from the FBI field office downtown and One Police Plaza, along with the Johanna Beckett murder file from the 12th Precinct archives. Jake's autopsy report, complete with images, signed by a Dr. Perlmutter and Kate's recollections had also been added to the time-line he was compiling.

Back when he was still seeing Sophia Turner, she had once remarked that he had an eye for the puzzle piece that just didn't fit. A writer's obsession for the entire story. When something didn't ring true, he would not stop until he found out why. This is why Jake had sent this information to him. There were details that didn't fit. The name Napolitano had come up as the arresting officer on records for dates he was shown to be off duty or out of town. Files that had been deliberately altered, both at the 12th and at One P.P..

His request to be added to the visitor log for Vincent Pulgotti had been denied. No surprise there, as he hadn't accepted any visitors since Johanna Beckett back in 1998. The unofficial nature of his "investigation" did not permit him to compel a visit from the man without creating a stir.

He didn't need any more scrutiny from the wrong people. Jake had tried the direct approach, he had wanted a war, wanted to go right down their throat and take that war right to their doorstep. That aggressive posture had gotten him killed. He would do the opposite, let them think it was over. He was expected to flail about until he got tired of running in circles and gave up, so that is exactly what he would appear to do. Walk away. Let them think it's over, for now.

The note from the mysterious R.A. Webb had told him to keep digging, but he was smart enough to realize there were limits to the amount of help he could reasonably expect from the his shadowy benefactor. He would have to play his cards close to his vest for now.

When he found the people responsible for the death of his friend, there would be a reckoning, just not today. He had other people besides himself to worry about. Including his new partner who had an equal if not greater need for closure. He would do this right, and quietly, for both of their sakes.

He knew he was beginning to have feelings for this woman, feelings he had not entertained since Alexis died. He could not allow this investigation to needlessly place her in danger. Not until he had the full story. Something he could take to court, or at least justify a full investigation.

He sighed quietly, password protected the file under the the innocuous sounding name _Nikki Heat_ and added a randomly generated photo array of Alexis in happier times as the new default background before turning the board off with the remote.

With that accomplished, he sat down at his desk, pulled the cleaning kit out of the bottom drawer and proceeded to disassemble his weapons to clean them. Idly he wondered, as went about the now familiar task, what Kate did when she wasn't in the precinct. How she had managed to get past the death of her mother to be able to make a life for herself, because in seven years, whenever he was too idle, he still found himself wallowing in his sorrow.

Kate Beckett awoke to the loud, insistent ringing of her cell phone. No bodies had dropped, and she wasn't on call. Captain Montgomery had ordered the entire team to take a few days after the tragic ending of the Regent kidnapping case.

Considering how it had effected Rodgers, it was probably for the best. But she hated too much idle time, whenever she had too much free time to play with, her mind always went to a set of file folders in the bottom drawer of her desk in the living room. Folders marked with the name Johanna Beckett...

That way led to madness...obsession..futility. It had taken two years of therapy to make her see that.

"Beckett" she said, almost glad for the distraction.

"Kate, it's me, Will." She hadn't heard the voice on the other end in nearly two years. Since he had announced his intentions to move to Boston.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of your call after two years, Will?" she asked flatly.

"I saw the report on the news about the Regent kidnapping. Did a little asking around. I'd heard that Special Agent Rodgers had been transferred to Homeland Security in New York, but didn't make the connection with the 12th Precinct until now." He replied.

"And why would my new _partner_ be any business of yours?" she snapped almost defensively.

This was the second time she had risen indignantly to his defense in as many days. That he had grown on her this quickly was unusual for her. She was usually a lot more selective in who she allowed into her close knit world. They had a lot in common, more than she'd had with the majority of the men she'd dated anyway. There was something different about him, a spark that had been missing from her life until now.

"Kate, he got transferred from the command of a high profile task force in DC for a reason. The Bureau considers him a loose cannon, damaged goods. Remember the agent who killed himself in Washington Heights last year?"

That got her immediate attention, her mind instantly flew to the crime scene photo of her mom's corpse.

"He was Rodgers' training officer and a close friend of his. Rodgers was a rising star in the bureau, I even admired the guy, but he pretty much wrecked his career trying to reopen his friend's case. Just be careful around him, Kate, he isn't necessarily what he appears."

"You have no idea." she replied tersely before she hung up on him. Her personal revelation that he had once been Richard Castle, the author who's books had saved her soul still hadn't completely sunk in yet.

But a new thought reverberated in her brain.

_Why would an FBI field agent commit suicide in the same alley where her mother died? Could he be connected to her in some way?_

* * *

**Author's note** _To answer the anonymous person who inquired about Alexis Castle's status in this story. Yes, she really is dead for the purposes of this tale. She died peacefully in her sleep of natural causes due to a compromised immune system as a result of chemo. Not kidnapped by the Dragon at age 6 , and she is certainly not going to be a zombie. Though I welcome input, and even suggestions, please at least read my story first, and I do ask that you make your suggestions conform to some version of reality and fit the story. I also give advice and "suggestions" much more weight if they are not made anonymously. Thanks! (more chapters to follow)_


	6. Ghosts of the Past

**Chapter Five  
****Ghosts of the Past**

**February 21st, 2009**

Richard Rodgers was on a first class flight back to New York from Los Angeles. Meredith's publicist had called him, apparently he was still her emergency contact number. At least she had remembered to update it to his current name. She had been in jail, having been pulled over on Rodeo Drive with three times the legal limit of alcohol in her system.

He was told that she had lucked out in many ways, not the least of which were that Hollywood's current flavor of the month was in the middle of a huge sex scandal with her married director, and a local politician was caught in bed with an underage girl. (It took every ounce of self control he possessed not to punch said publicist in the face for being so blasé about that) To make a long story short, the gossip rags had little time for a 38 year old television actress arrested on a DWI after a pub crawling binge.

He had managed to convince the judge to release her into his custody (being an FBI Special Agent had _some_ advantages over his previous occupation) with the admonishment that he get her into rehab. He had even secured permission to take her out of state so he could get her into a place in NY. When he had called Kate and explained the situation about Alexis' mother, she had suggested the place where her father had gotten clean.

He had left out the part about who he had been when he had been married to a Hollywood actress and she didn't ask for details, to which he was incredibly thankful.

Meredith had been unusually quiet for most of the flight, like she was almost ashamed that her publicist had called him. It was a long flight, and it seemed like the closer to NY they got, the more sullen and withdrawn she became. He had missed the signs that she was spinning out while he was recovering from his own pain and loss. Had been too drunk, morose, and worried about his career to notice it this past Christmas.

She looked empty and lost, more so than he ever remembered over the past seven years. She had been gone for most of Alexis' short life, always thinking she could breeze back in anytime and pick up where she left off. Unfortunately for her, time had run out, and now she was left with this great empty void where memories of her daughter should have been, but, unlike him, she had missed them all. _'At least I had the memories of her life to fall back on, she has next to nothing.'_ he thought to himself. He really did feel honest pity for her.

"I thought I was finally mostly ok until about two weeks ago." she said, in a voice so small and fragile he barely recognized it, "We had this child actress on the show for the last three episodes leading to the season finale, she was about eight years old."

She sniffed loudly, bowed her head and continued.

"She looked so much like Alexis, it blew my mind. Her character was slated to die in the finale, and when they had her made up for the scene on the autopsy table... I have no idea how I nailed my scene in one take, But, after... I ran to my trailer and just...lost it. I don't think I stopped drinking for nearly three days"

Tears were streaming down her face as she looked up at him, her red-rimmed eyes pleading with him.

"I know you...came out..to take me to rehab, and...and...I know I need to go, but,...before you take me...can we...can we...go see her first...Rick...please?"

Her tearful plea threw him. Since the day of her funeral, she had steadfastly refused to go near the cemetery where Alexis was buried, or any other cemetery for that matter. Their marriage may have been a disaster, their romantic relationship long since over, but for what they had once been, and for the only bond they now shared, he couldn't refuse her this one simple thing.

"Of course we can."

"Thank you." she said quietly before she completely broke down.

He did for her the only thing he could do, he held her.

He realized in that moment, with his ex-wife sobbing in his arms, that there was nothing more he could do for Alexis. She was beyond his reach, but he would have to do what he could for the ones she left behind. For himself, he would have to learn to live again, perhaps in time to even love again. Though he wasn't sure when, and he wasn't how, he would have to try to find a way.

He knew Alexis would have asked for nothing more, and would have accepted nothing less.

For her sake, and in her name he would try.

...

The morning after Kate had spoken to Rick on the phone about finding an in-patient rehab center for his ex-wife, a body had dropped. One Martin Fisk, a small claims attorney. His body was found face down on a cold basement floor with a pentagram drawn on it in white chalk.

They did all the necessary legwork, checked his financials, his friends, his co-workers but nothing seemed to make sense about either the victim or the crime scene.

To Kate, it all looked disturbingly familiar, but she couldn't place it. After forty eight hours with no new leads, the case was shelved until something new came to light.

Perhaps her partner could help her figure it out when he got back from getting his ex-wife settled into rehab.


	7. Still Small Voices

**Chapter Six  
****Still Small Voices**

Kate Beckett had been sitting at her desk for most of the morning wondering if her partner was all right. It couldn't have been easy to take Alexis' mother to rehab. It likely brought a host of bittersweet, and not-so-fond memories to the surface. Just like it had when she had made the same drive with her father five years ago.

She looked across her desk at the one her partner occupied. A small picture of Alexis in a black frame and a seven year old laptop were thus far the only decoration its occupant had added to it, other than the name plate which read Spec. Agent Rodgers, FBI on it. The boys had had it made shortly after the Regent kidnapping case as a show of support. Though the nickname, "Beckett's pet fed" was still occasionally whispered around the precinct, nobody showed the poor judgment to utter it to her face after she made her feelings on the matter abundantly clear. Hastings had been particularly nervous around Beckett for several days after being dressed down by her if front of the entire squad room.

Once the details of his daughter's losing fight with Leukemia quietly made the rounds while Rick was in L.A., (courtesy of a slip of the tongue by Detective Ryan who had asked about the photo when Rodgers had set it on his desk) most of the mean spirited gossip sharply withered away. Fed or not, nobody liked to kick a man when he was down.

A collection was quietly taken, the proceeds of which were donated to Leukemia research in Alexis Rodgers' name. (The thank you card for the donation was sitting at the top of his "in" box.) When he'd found out about it, Captain Montgomery had quietly slipped a fifty into the till (from him and his wife) and spent the rest of the afternoon in his office looking at the photos of his kids and talking to his wife on the phone. It was one of the rare occasions when his door was ever closed.

It was interesting how Richard Rodgers had only been here for a few short weeks, yet now the place seemed nearly empty without him in it.

Kate had tried looking into the the Jake Newstead "suicide" but the NYPD files were minuscule at best since it was immediately assumed to be a suicide and the FBI stonewalled her information request. Though she had felt the old, familiar tug of her mother's murder calling to her blood, this lead, like all of the others she had found over the years seemed to be going nowhere. It had taken her years to put this aside, but all it took was one reference to a death in Washington Heights and she felt like she was back to square one.

If Rodgers was looking into it like Will had said, like she would have looked into her mom's, she wondered what he might have been able to find. She hoped that he would one day take her into his confidence about what he was doing. He had been looking into her mother's case file, perhaps he had found a connection, or suspected one. If he put the attention to detail into his cases that he had once put into his books she found the possibility highly likely.

She wanted to go over the case that had come in while he was gone with him, but while he was in Connecticut getting his ex wife settled in, it had pretty much gone cold. Now it almost seemed cruel to dangle his old life in front of him. A life he had obviously given up on because his little girl had died. If something new popped it might become necessary, but she wasn't willing to satisfy her own curiosity at his expense.

Odd as it may seem, given how the last relationship she had been in with an FBI agent had worked out, she knew she was actually beginning to like him. Not just because he had turned out to be one of her favorite authors or might be able to help her find her mother's killer either.

It was uncanny, but she was beginning to really like him.


	8. An Old Life, Revisited

**Chapter Seven  
****An Old Life, Revisited**

The day that Kate was certain would come, but was secretly dreading for Rick's sake had finally arrived as she stepped under the crime scene tape in the apartment of Allison Tisdale. Rodgers was already there staring at the woman's body, covered in rose petals, her eyes covered with sunflowers. Somebody was killing people and dressing the crime scenes like the books of Richard Castle. She saw him bow his head and close his eyes for a moment as if trying to banish a lingering mirage.

Lanie was busy making her routine examination of the body, taking her liver temp, checking lividity, and hadn't bothered to look up from her work, as Kate studied her partner's reaction to the crime scene. She had been tempted to reveal that she had discovered his past, but now, seeing how haunted he really was by it, she was glad she had kept that knowledge to herself. It seemed to serve only to remind him of what he had lost, not what he had accomplished.

"_Flowers For Your Grave__"_ she heard him whisper quietly before he walked away muttering, "_I wear the chain I forged in life! I made it link by link..._" as he stepped under the crime scene tape and was gone. Lanie hadn't gotten a good look at him before he left.

"Is he the fed I've heard so much about?" she asked, "He always so squeamish at crime scenes?"

Kate shook her head,

"Yes and no, Lanie, he's just having a bad day is all."

"You soft on him, girlfriend?"

"No..." she began, a little too forcefully, which only served to pique Lanie's interest, as she cast an arched eyebrow Kate's way.

"Yes." she finally admitted under Lanie's relentless gaze.

"He seems to be your type, _miss thing_, tall, dark, brooding." she said with a mischievous wink, "You really should try getting interested in somebody more fun."

Kate put her face in her palm, and replied caustically, "Now really isn't the time, Lanie"

With that, they got back to the business at hand, as Kate's eyes turned back to the door her partner had disappeared through. _'Quoting Jacob Marley was not a good sign_, she thought to herself. _He's gonna flip when he learns about the other one.'_

Back at the precinct, Richard Rodgers was sitting at his desk looking through the file of the unsolved from two weeks ago. The same look of dread in his eyes as he had at the Allison Tisdale crime scene.

He knew the scene from _Hell Hath No Fury_ as if he'd written it yesterday. '_Why those?'_ He asked himself, '_truly two of my lesser works.' _Barely noticing, as Captain Montgomery walked out of his office looked at the murder board and asked,

"Where are we on this?"

"We're no closer to a suspect, than Kate was with the first case, Allison Tisdale, age 24, social worker, no known enemies." Rick said flatly.

"How can we narrow the suspect pool down?"

"It would be great if we had access to Richard Castle's fan mail," Kate supplied, with a quick glance over to her partner, "we could see if anyone who meets the profile tried to reach out to him."

"I have an idea," Rick interjected, bringing up the Black Pawn website on his laptop, "on how to manage that."

Captain Montgomery stepped over to Rick's desk, as he continued,

"According to this, his former publicist Paula Haas still handles all of his affairs, I'll contact her and see if I can arrange to get his fan mail for the last few months."

Kate glanced up at him, careful to keep a neutral expression on her face as she asked, "Are you sure she'll be ok with giving you his fan mail, Rodgers?"

"Only one way to find out," he replied, walking out of the room dialing his phone. When he came back, a few minutes later, Kate gave him a small smile at his somewhat lost expression.

"Lanie called while you were gone, she has something for us."

As the two of them grabbed their jackets and headed for the door, Rick added, "I have an appointment with Paula Haas, after five"

Kate was not surprised in the least.

When Rick and Kate arrived at OCME, Lanie Parrish was just finishing her autopsy of Allison Tisdale, though she visibly brightened when Kate walked in,

"What did you find, Lanie?" Kate asked, as Lanie finished pulling the sheet over her head.

"Oh, nothing conclusive, cause of death was definitely two nine millimeter gunshot wounds to the chest, the fatal shot being the second one. The bullets are on their way to ballistics as we speak."

At Kate's questioning look, Lanie replied, "What I really wanted was to get a good look at mister tall dark and br..."

Lanie trailed off as her gaze fell on Rick and her blood went cold. She stared into the face of a man she had not laid eyes on since January 9th 2002. She could remember his exact expression of shock and loss as she had zipped a bald, gaunt, eight year old girl into a body bag. That first case haunted her dreams to this day. She never in her wildest dreams ever thought she'd lay eyes on Richard Castle again, but there he was right in front of her.

"Lanie Parrish, meet Special Agent Richard Rodgers, FBI."

When he put out his hand, she took it slowly, her expression schooled, but her eyes held both sympathy and confusion.

"We've met," Rick said, barely able to keep the lingering sadness out of his voice, "she was the medical examiner at the scene the day I found Alexis' body."

The smirk on Kate's face melted quickly away. '_This day just keeps on getting better and better.'_ She thought sarcastically to herself.

**4:30 PM  
Paula Haas' Midtown office**

"Nice to see you again, Rick, it's been what eight years?" Paula Haas leaned on the corner of her desk and crossed her arms "What can I do for you after all this time?"

"I need all of my fan mail from the metro New York area for at least the last six months"

Paula barked out a crisp laugh, "Getting sentimental for the old days, Rick?"

Shaking his head angrily, Rick unbuttoned his jacket and produced his FBI credentials, she couldn't help but notice the holstered pistol on his hip.

"That life no longer has any meaning for me, Paula." he said without any trace of warmth, "As far as I'm concerned Richard Castle died with Alexis."

"So I take it the NYPD doesn't know about your _previous_ occupation?" Paula asked, her brain shifting gears quickly.

"No, they don't, and I'd like to keep it that way." Rick replied.

"My silence and my cooperation come with a price." she shot back.

"And what might that be?" Rick asked, with an arched eyebrow as he returned his credentials to his breast pocket.

"They're making a movie based on the Derek Storm books, I want you to look at the script, and make sure it isn't crap. Check it for lapses from the books, the movie will have a Richard Castle associate producer's credit."

"Done." Rick said.

"And I'll need you to go to L.A. this summer to consult on the movie..." she put her hand up to silence him before he could protest. "...you don't have to be Richard Castle, you can go as Richard Rodgers, if you wish but I want your eyes and ears there to make sure the movie is done right, your fans are rabid about the details. I'm leveraged up to my eyeballs on this and I need it to make money."

This time it was Rick who's gears were turning. '_This could be just the opportunity I need to make the people __who killed Jake think I'm backing off' _he thought to himself, '_maybe even get the Bureau off my ass'._

"I have some personal time coming, I think I can manage that for you, but Paula, I mean this, _nobody_ is to know I used to be Richard Castle. That part of my life is _over_, understand? That includes the NYPD detective that will be coming to join me at five."

"Done." Paula's face softened for a moment, "Rick, for what it's worth I am sorry about Alexis. I really did like the spunky little tyke"

For the first time since he arrived, Rick saw the small photo of Alexis in the black enamel frame on the shelf behind her desk where where her copies all of his first editions were kept. He quietly turned away and walked for the door.

Paula Haas made a brief appearance in the 12th Precinct squad room the next morning to drop off the fan mail that Rick had requested, and allowed herself to be fingerprinted as she had read them and hers would have to be eliminated from those that might be on them. She announced that she had spoken with Richard Castle about their request. From a prepared statement, she stated that _"...though I am retired from writing I am shocked and appalled that someone would be staging actual murders based on my books.."_

Paula really knew how to work a crowd, she even had Kate almost believing it, and she actually knew the truth. That Richard Castle, what was left of him anyway, was sitting at the desk across from hers. His writing had saved her, given her a place to escape to in the darkest time of her life, allowed her to find meaning and renewed purpose in the wake of her mother's death. She hoped that one day he might be able to see that writing again would not be a betrayal of his daughter's memory. That moving on with his life did not mean he loved her any less. That his life was about more than his daughter's death. Upon further reflection, she found it ironic and perhaps a little hypocritical that her father's advice would come to mind, considering she had never been able to follow it herself.

For the better part of the day, Rick and Kate sat together going through Richard Castle's fan mail. Had the circumstances of his life been different, he was sure all of this attention would have been a tremendous ego boost to him. He couldn't believe that so many people were not only still reading his books, but were also still writing to him. Many of the letters simply asking why he had given up writing when he had such obvious talent and had had such an effect on their lives. Some had only started reading his books in recent years.

He had managed to intercept a small sympathy card with the name _K. Beckett_ on the return address dated shortly after _Storm Fall_ had come out and slipped it into his pocket. Though most of the mail was dated in the last three months, as per his request, he realized that slipping this in must have been Paula's idea of a joke.

He could tell that she had made the connection between the two crime scenes, almost before he did. Her notation on the case file had said it looked _"right out of Richard Castle's __Hell Hath No Fury__" _He had also seen the same look of recognition at the Allison Tisdale crime scene. The sympathy card had cinched it for him. She was more than a casual reader of the genre. He was sure that if he looked at her bookshelf he would likely find all of his books on it, carefully arranged by release date. Quite likely dog eared from constant reading.

"I guess Richard Castle has a fan." he said nonchalantly.

"A really deranged fan," Kate replied, preoccupied with looking through the letters.

"Oh, you don't look deranged to me." he quipped, unable to resist needling her just a little bit.

"What!?" Kate said, as her head snapped up and her eyes met his.

"Nothing...never mind." he replied, feigning innocence.

When Kate looked down again, a folded up sheet from a yellow legal pad caught her eye, when she unfolded it, a hand drawn picture of the scene in _"Flowers For Your Grave"_ covered nearly the length of it, she turned it around and showed it to Rick,

"I think I just found something." she said.

When the lab tech came up to dust the piece of paper in question for prints he stated,

"You should have the prints in about a week, there's a backlog in the lab."

"A week?" Kate shot back, "We have a possible serial killer here!"

"Sorry, detective," he replied, "I don't make the rules."

Rick waved the lab tech over for a moment, and got out his smart phone.

"Can I see that for a moment?' he said and snapped a photo of the print with his smart phone, then dialed a number. When the line picked up he spoke into his phone.

"Hi Avery, this is Rodgers, I'm sending you a print, do you think you can do a full database search and get back to me ASAP? I know I'm supposed to be persona non grata down there but I need it for a case I'm working with the NYPD."

"Sure thing, boss, you'll have it in an hour. Special Agent Shaw may be keeping your desk warm, but I'll always see you as the boss-man." Avery replied.

"Thanks Avery," Rick replied, "you guys aren't giving Jordan too much of a hard time, are you? She didn't ask for this either, and she was always my first choice to succeed me."

"No _sir_," Avery said back proudly, "she made it clear her first day in charge that she may have wanted your job, but not this way. She only accepted the promotion because she was afraid they'd stick some bean counter or political appointee in your place, even then she did it under protest. If somebody had to fill your shoes, at least it was somebody we know."

"Thanks, Avery, tell her I said hello, and try to look out for her, okay? She knows her business, but she still needs a bit of seasoning out in the field. Thanks for the help with the print"

After saying his goodbyes and promising he'd stop by next time he was back in DC he closed the line, and looked up at Kate.

"We should have results back on the print in an hour."

Before she could reply, the phone rang. There was another murder.


	9. Revelations

**Chapter Eight  
****Revelations**

Beckett and Rodgers stepped under the crime scene tape and into the apartment complex swimming pool where their next victim was discovered. Her name was Kendra Pitney, floating face down in the middle of the swimming pool in a yellow prom dress, a knife sticking out of her back. The two of them turned to each other and, as if of one mind, whispered in near perfect unison,

"_Death Of A Prom Queen" _

Once the crime scene photos were taken, she was removed from the pool, the knife removed and placed in an evidence bag. Kate walked over to talk with some of the detectives and uniforms doing the canvas and initial interviews as Rick knelt down over the body directly across from Lanie Parrish, who was busy checking the victim's hands and taking scrapings under her fingernails.

"I'm sorry, seeing me again must have been an awful shock." Rick said.

"Not as much as hearing you introduced under a different name." Lanie replied, quietly, the soft sympathetic look returned to her face as the normally saucy ME searched for words.

"Richard Rodgers was my given name at birth, I simply went back to it."

Lanie nodded, in a way she understood.

"Have you told her?" Lanie asked, glancing across the room at her friend.

"No, but I think she suspects something is off with me." Rick replied. "I'd appreciate it if you kept this to yourself, though. I've worked very hard to distance myself from my old life. Without Alexis it no longer has any meaning for me."

"You can trust Kate," Lanie replied, "I won't say anything, but if the two of you are heading where I think you are, I think you should tell her."

"Tell me what?" Kate asked as she approached the two of them.

Before either of them could come up with a suitable reply, Rick's smart phone went off. When he picked up, Avery was on the other end. He stepped away from Kate and Dr. Parrish, listened for a few minutes, then said into the phone,

"E-mail me the results, thanks for the quick turnaround." Rick replied, "I know I'm not exactly a popular guy in DC right now."

"Jordan said to tell you that if it turns out to be a serial, she can have the team spun up and on site within 24 hours." Avery replied without missing a beat "Just say the word."

Rick was touched that the whole team would be willing to risk their reputations on his behalf, even Jordan was still quietly in his corner. He'd built a really solid team, but he knew he couldn't ask this of them, not unless he was sure.

"I'll keep that in mind, but I think this one can be handled with NYPD resources for now, it doesn't smell right for a serial, too many pieces that just don't fit. Thanks, I appreciate it"

With that, Rick closes the line with a sweep of a finger, looks up and says,

"The prints came back, the FBI database kicked out the name Kyle Cabot, he lives in Brooklyn"

"We've got him!" Kate replied, eager for the chase.

"Not so fast, Beckett," Rick replied, pulling on her arm to face him, "something about all this doesn't smell right. There's no motive, and the pieces don't seem to fit for a copycat."

"He's a serial killer, he doesn't need a motive!" Kate replied, gently pulling her arm away.

"Kate, I lived and breathed serial killers for the last two years and I'm telling you that something isn't right here."

"Regardless, it's still more than we had ten minutes ago."

On their way into Kyle Cabot's apartment building, Rick and Kate put on their body armor, Rick pulled on his FBI windbreaker, and drew his Sig Sauer, chambering a round as they headed up the stairs. They only had one shot at this. They waited quietly at his door till Kate got the signal that Ryan and Espo were in place on the fire escape to keep him from going out the window.

Rick held up three fingers, then two, then one pounded on the door and shouted

"Kyle Cabot, this is the FBI! Open the door!"

Kate kicked the door in, and Rick entered leading with his Sig.

As the rest of the NYPD tactical unit entered and cleared the room, Kate noticed the book covers and newspaper clippings on his living room desk, she pulled on of Richard Castle's books off the shelves, there were drawings on the pages and manic writings in the margins. Rick was looking at his worst nightmare of a fan.

"Beckett, you gotta see this." said one of the other detectives.

When Rick and Kate walked into Cabot's bedroom, they noticed his wall covered in clippings and photos from the tour for storm fall. Directly in the center was a picture of him and Alexis from the _Deadly Storm_ launch party. When Rick saw this his blood turned to ice, he had pictures of his his daughter in various places between ages four and six.

Kate did her best to pull him away from the wall mural, as Esposito lifted up a blouse likely belonging to Allison Tisdale, along with a small caliber handgun. Moments later they heard a loud banging coming from the bedroom closet. When the door was yanked open, Kyle Cabot was found inside pounding his head against the wall.

Beckett tried for nearly an hour to interrogate Kyle but he wasn't speaking. Thus far they can only tie him to one of the victims, Allison Tisdale, his social worker. But it seemed that was enough for them. Combined with his diagnosis of pervasive developmental disorder and the evidence at the scene, even Captain Montgomery believed they had their guy.

Richard Rodgers, however thought differently. In spite of the angry rantings blaming his daughter for his no longer writing, which in all honesty wasn't far from the mark. His hero had completely disappeared, causing him to lapse into a manic cycle. He felt sympathy for the poor deluded man, could almost see it from his point of view. But from looking at the crime scenes, and the diagnosis of the man in the box, he knew it wasn't him.

He had studied the profiles of too many serial killers with this man's condition in the past two years. Too many of the little details were wrong. Details a man like this would have obsessed over getting precisely right. Everything would have been exactly like it was in his books. No deviations, no shortcuts. He knew they had the wrong man, that the killer was still out there.

There was only one way he could convince Kate to believe him and keep investigating.

He would have to reveal all.

Kate was confused about Rick Rodgers' request to meet him at his home. She knew there was a mutual attraction between them, but his request didn't seem to be romantic in nature. It had all of the hallmarks of a confession. When she got to his building, it seemed to be rather upscale for an FBI agent's salary, she knew from her experience with Will Sorenson, that most of them were pretty blue collar in spite of the suits they wore.

When she knocked on his door, he answered almost immediately and was completely stunned. The loft was huge by New York standards. It was a pretty large place, but it seemed empty, nearly sterile. Like the signs of a life live here had been carefully removed long ago.

"Please come in, Kate, let me take your coat." Rick said, politely, so she shrugged out of her bright red overcoat and handed it to him.

He hung it up in the hall closet, and beckoned her to follow him into his study, where a large screen dominated.

"Before I can explain to you why I'm so sure that Kyle Cabot is not our murderer, I have a confession to make, and it isn't easy for me." Rick said, "I wasn't always Rick Rodgers, as a matter of fact he's only been a name on my birth certificate until about eight years ago."

"When Alexis died." Kate said.

"Before that I went by the name Richard Castle."

Kate nearly swooned, she dropped heavily into the easy chair behind her. Though she had figured it out weeks ago, to hear it from his own lips was nearly overwhelming.

"I know, I figured that out after our discussion in the shooting range," Kate said, "I read the dedication in _Storm Fall_ and it all came together. I wanted to tell you I knew, but then this case came up, and I saw how much your past seemed to haunt you."

"It still does." Rick replied, "I wrote _Storm Fall_ and though I dedicated it to Alexis, it was also supposed to be a goodbye to all of my fans, to let them know I appreciated them, even though I knew I could never find it in me to write again. I had changed my name back to the name on my birth certificate the day after she died. The day after the last book signing of the tour, I entered Quantico and never intended to look back."

"But now you're here." Kate added.

"Yes, I am Kate, and that is a story for another time, perhaps." Rick said, "For now, I need you to understand why I am certain that, not only is Kyle Cabot _not_ our killer, but I doubt we're even dealing with a serial killer at all."

The following day, Kate and Rick had an appointment to visit Allison's father. Rick could tell the moment he laid eyes on him, that he was terminally ill, cancer most likely. His experience with Alexis had shown him exactly what to look for, including the hairpiece. Alexis had done touched her head exactly the same way when he first gave her the wig she could wear in public so she wouldn't feel self conscious when they went outside. After talking to him, they knew precisely whom would have the motive to kill Allison. Her brother Harrison.

Rick called in a federal warrant for Harrison Tisdale's office and home, and when the arrive they are informed that Harrison's business is going under, which is why he needed to inherit everything he could from his father's estate. While Kate, Espo and Ryan went up to arrest Tisdale, Rick elected to cover the back entrance. He had a hunch that Tisdale would run, he didn't have to wait long to be proven correct.

He saw Tisdale drop from the fire escape and down the alley, and gave chase.

"Stop! Federal agent!" he shouted in a loud authoritative tone, but Tisdale kept running. He drew his Sig and gave chase, fully confident, he could overtake him, until he heard something that turned his blood to ice.

"EEEE! Let me go! Mommyyy!" in the loud piercing wail of a young girl.

The child's frightened mother pointed around the alley at his approach, and as he rounded the corner, he saw Tisdale, holding a gun to the five year old redheaded girl's temple. Rick's blood pressure rose at the sight of her.

"I'm walking out of here, if you try to stop me..." Tisdale shouted over the tearful wimpers of the frightened little girl.

It took all of Rick's willpower to keep his gun hand steady as he aimed between Tisdale's eyes.

"Let the girl go, Tisdale, it's all over."

Rick heard the clacking of Kate's heels as she approached behind him, her whispered curse as she assessed the scene. He didn't need to look to know she had her service weapon drawn, she had his back as he inched closer to Harrison and his small hostage.

"It isn't over!" Tisdale shouted shrilly, "let me go, or I spread this little girl's brains all over the alley!"

"I promise you Tisdale, if you harm one hair on that child's head, you won't be around to collect your inheritance." Then very softly to the little girl, he said, "Close your eyes sweetheart."

When Harrison Tisdale's eyes twitched down to the little girl, Rick was on him, striking him in the side of his head with the butt of his pistol, grabbing the girl from his grasp and pulling her away. The crying girl wrapped both of her little arms around his neck as Kate surged forward, kicked Tisdale's gun away and cuffed him.

"I've got you, pumpkin, I've got you." Rick cooed quietly into the girl's hair, rubbing soothing circles into her back.

When Kate looked up, she saw her partner's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, a single tear running down his left cheek. _'This is a rough job,'_ she thought to herself, as a slight smile twitched her lips, '_you take your victories where you could find them.' _After the heartache of the Regent kidnapping a few weeks ago, she could hardly fault him his reaction, especially since the little girl in question looked so much like the one he'd lost.

After returning the young girl, who's name they now knew to be Rose Tyler, to her her tearful, grateful mother, Rick and Kate stood face to face just inside the police cordon.

"How did you know?" She asked

"Know what?" Rick replied.

"That he wouldn't shoot the girl." Kate clarified.

"I was absolutely sure he would have if I pushed him too hard, until I got close enough to see that his safety was on." Rick said, "Once I saw that, I knew I had him."

"Would you have fired, if he hadn't?" Kate asked, she had to know.

"Without hesitation." Rick replied, "I'm just glad I didn't have to though, today will be traumatic enough for her as it is."

Without thinking, Kate inclined forward and kissed him on the cheek.

"That was for not giving up on the truth." she said quietly, "Even when the rest of us bought in to the deception. Were it not for you Kyle Cabot would be going up for a murder he didn't commit, and the real killer would be walking free."

Just as impulsively, she kissed him quickly on the lips, causing a surge of electricity to surge through them both.

"And this is for the man you used to be, your words saved my life, thank you."

Rick stared at her in shocked silence for a moment, and said the first thing that popped into his brain.

"Always."


	10. Diversions and Distractions

**Chapter Nine  
****Diversions and Distractions**

Special Agent Richard Rodgers' superiors were overjoyed that he had come to his senses and was finally getting with the program. They saw it as a positive step that he had elected to accept the two months paid leave he had been offered the previous November to get some perspective on the death of his mentor and friend.

He had even elected to take on a small PR job for the Bureau at the request of Black Pawn Publishing, to work on the forthcoming Derek Storm movie as a special consultant. This project would do wonders for the Bureau's image, and it didn't hurt at all that they could claim a PR coup at the expense of the CIA, who had declined to become involved in the project. It was well worth granting Agent Rodgers an extra month on detached assignment for him to be able to rub the DDO's face in it when they played golf on Sunday.

He had been a valuable asset to the Bureau in the past few years, and he was well on his way to becoming one again, the Director of Operations was greatly relieved that he had finally worked through his issues with his friend's death, and had decided to put an end to the self destructive behaviors which had led to his censure and reassignment.

The positively glowing reports the Bureau had been getting both from Captain Montgomery of the 12th Precinct, NYPD as well as the Mayor of New York City, (both of whom sang his praises for his hard work and dedication) were a welcome bonus. It wasn't easy to find field agents who could integrate well with local or municipal police departments without causing friction or stepping on toes. Perhaps Rodgers could be convinced to give a seminar at the Academy, to teach the next generation of agents how he managed it.

As it turned out the little girl he had saved, Rose Tyler was the daughter of one of Mayor Weldon's most influential cabinet members not to mention his Goddaughter. Having established such a good rapport with the Mayor of New York City and the NYPD, his tenure in the pilot program might only need to last another year or two before he was back on the promotion grid. Especially if he kept making such good impressions in the right circles.

….

A file clerk in the Director's office copied the file and report on Agent Rodgers and had it transmitted via secure link to his shadowy political boss. The clerk breathed a sigh of relief, for the time being, killing a second FBI agent in less than a year would not become necessary. It would be difficult to replicate the last one since Mr. Rathborne had dropped off the grid. He may be in the pocket of a dirty politician, but the idea of murdering honest, upstanding agents still bothered him considerably, this wasn't what he'd signed up for when he took this job.

The organization had to be careful how many tasks they assigned to Lockwood. The man wasn't getting any younger, and he had more than enough on his plate keeping Roy Montgomery, and by extension, Detective Kate Beckett in line and out of their employer's hair. For the time being, Lockwood's job would be a bit easier, since that same Agent Rodgers had invited her to join him in Los Angeles for the summer. As it turned out she is a fan of the books the movie was based on.

If both Rodgers and Beckett were actually finding "outside interests" then his boss might just be able to relax, at least for a while. They might even be able to convince Rodgers that it was in his, and Detective Beckett's best interest to keep her attention focused elsewhere, thus eliminating the need for the services of Roy Montgomery. Provided of course they could get their hands on the blackmail information he was holding. It would be good to be able to tie off that loose end.

Montgomery knew far too much for his own good, which was way too much for _"the Dragon's"_ liking. The chance that he might weaken in his resolve to keep her in the dark for her own good, or reveal what he knew to the press on a slow news cycle was simply far too great a risk for him to entertain for long. Permitting Detective Beckett to live had thus far kept him in line. But that situation would never be tenable in the long term.

….

Richard Rodgers was waiting for Kate at LAX, he felt silly holding a sign with her name on it, but he wasn't sure she'd recognize him dressed as informally as he was in a pair of jeans a solid blue polo shirt with the FBI logo on it, and a pair of low cuff hiking boots. His gun was nowhere in sight. (his Sig Sauer was in the glove box of his rental car) He didn't feel like himself without it on his hip, but he didn't want to deal with the issues of bringing it into the airport considering he was _supposed_ to be on vacation.

He had been in Los Angeles for a month already working with the actors at the studio and on location. He had come highly recommended _"by Richard Castle himself"_ who was rumored to be actively involved in writing the script and keeping track of the movie's production while still living in seclusion. As a result, everyone was very respectful to him on set. Paula had gotten him a summer rental beach house in Malibu near the studio with an incredible view of the ocean and he almost understood why Meredith had liked living on the West coast. It didn't feel as cramped or as dark as New York City could at times. The sun and the waves were very soothing.

He hadn't been sure at first about Nathan Fillion, who had gotten the role of Derek Storm, but the man had impressed him with both his knowledge and his focus on the job. Obviously he had prepared himself quite well to play the role of a private detective turned CIA covert operative. Jennifer Beals, who was cast as Clara Strike made him do a spit take the first time she was in costume. She so closely resembled Sophia Turner that it was scary, since nobody in casting had actually met or even knew she existed. He secretly wondered if Sophia had ever played up the resemblance to her advantage whilst undercover.

Ms. Beals (she was constantly asking him to call her Jennifer, but it felt weird) was constantly peppering him with questions about his knowledge of counter terror and counter-espionage which he had done a lot of work in before getting assigned the Serial Killer task force. She even emulated how he carried his gun, (a quick draw hip holster instead of the stereotypical shoulder rig) She seemed to be utterly fascinated about his work, at least from a professional standpoint, and he even found out she was a fan of his mother's stage work. He'd make a point to tell Martha, she'd be thrilled.

He would later find out that, as in the precinct, his daughter's death had made the rounds without his knowledge among the cast and crew which generated a massive donation to leukemia research and a significant number of flower arrangements delivered to the loft in New York. Martha had had to get help from Esposito and Ryan to deliver them to the cemetery. She told him over the phone later that evening that they were both so moved by the generosity of the cast, that they had to excuse themselves to "get something out of their eyes" several times while they were helping her arrange the flowers.

...

It was probably a good thing that Rick had been carrying the sign, because when Kate emerged from the baggage claim area, he barely recognized her. She had grown her hair out to shoulder length and had added red highlights to it. She was also wearing flowing purple sundress, aviator's sunglasses and ballet flats, a massive departure from her usual attire. He liked this look on her, she seemed much more relaxed than she did at the precinct.

He could tell from her body language when she saw him off at the airport a month ago, that she had wanted to ask him something important, but was afraid to for some reason. He knew about her unofficial ongoing investigation into her mother's murder. Her censure for it when she was still a uniformed officer (which had nearly ended her career) was in her file.

A few rather disturbing parallels between her investigation and his did exist. He hadn't yet determined a direct connection yet, but he was certain that one existed, and so had Jake. She seemed very like him in temperament. She would want to attack this directly, like he did. She would get slapped down, _directly_ if she was allowed to do that. It was the reason he had stepped back for a while, and the reason he asked her to take a large portion of her vacation time to come out and visit. Out here in comparative safety, perhaps they could compare notes, come up with a game plan on how to attack this without getting both of them killed.

He was really beginning to have strong feelings for Kate Beckett, and he didn't want her to end up dead in an alley, like Jake, or her mother.


	11. Let Them Think It's Over

**Chapter Ten  
****Let Them Think It's Over**

Getting Kate out of New York City, and out of her element had had an unexpected side benefit. It had gotten her to relax. This was probably why Captain Montgomery had allowed her to take so many of her accrued vacation days all at once. When Rick had spoken to her on the phone after she had gotten her leave time approved, she had related how shocked he had been, not only that she had been asked to go on an extended holiday at his invitation, but that she was willing to leave the city at all. He had been quick to not only approve her request for leave time, but also of her willingness to get out and let her hair down.

Rick had gotten the beach house through Paula specifically with Kate in mind. The movie was on a brief hiatus in order for Nathan Fillion and Jennifer Beals to take care of their contractual appearance obligations for the television programs they were each involved with. Rick only had to meet with studio executives on "Richard Castle's" behalf once or twice during the next four weeks before principal shooting resumed in earnest. He would have plenty of time to get to know his new partner better.

He knew that there was something on her mind, but she seemed reluctant to broach the topic directly, as if to give it voice would make such concerns real. He knew that her mother's death had taken a massive emotional toll on her in her early twenties, and had realigned her priorities. He had seen the same thing in Jake, though now he had a better idea for how if had effected his friend early on.

Kate spent a large amount of her time staring out over the Pacific Ocean. He knew from her pensive expression, and her quiet reserve that she was screwing on her courage to ask him what she had come to California to ask. Before Rick could ask not only for her help, but also for her discretion, he needed to know whether she trusted him enough to step back and get some perspective.

There were some aspects of this case that Jake had not put in the records Rick had dutifully turned over to the FBI. Things he had found out later, before he had been suspended. Facts that Kate would find disturbing based on what little she knew of her mother's activities leading up to her death. He didn't want to cause her any more emotional pain than she was already in, but after all this time she deserved to know _why_ her mother died, even if who did it still proved to be elusive. Perhaps knowing that much would be enough to get her to stand down for the time being.

…**.**

Kate had spent the majority of the first week in Malibu on the back porch of the beach house pensively gazing out over the Pacific. She had not been to California since her first and only year at Stanford. Though the fall had been full of fun, hope and promise, the second had been a blur of burying herself in work. (she had doubled her class schedule to keep busy) Her thoughts soon strayed to her mother as she continued to gaze at the nearly endless expanse of wave crested blue water. She knew that if she were ever going to have a chance of broaching the subject of her mother's case it would be here, away from the precinct.

She knew he must be at the 12th for a reason. He was too competent of a field agent to allow himself to be relegated to what the FBI would consider a "dog house" detail. Will would have chafed at the prospect of being under the command of a local PD captain, even one with as distinguished a service record as Roy Montgomery's. She had to admit to being of two minds on the subject. She both desperately wanted to know what he knew about her mother's case, but she was also deeply afraid of the effect said information would have on her.

The last time she had gone down this road, right after she had made detective, she became so obsessed that she had nearly lost her shield. She had screwed up a major vice squad operation, one Captain Crockett and Lieutenant Tubbs had been gearing up for for almost two years. She had been suspended for a month, and then relegated to running the property room while she saw an NYPD shrink for nearly a year to get her gun back. Vice was pretty much done with her after that though, nobody there would ever trust her again.

If it hadn't been for Captain Montgomery, she would likely have been dishonorably discharged and ended up as a rent-a-cop in some office building instead of a homicide detective with one of the most impressive clearance rates on the force. He had gotten her transferred to the 12th, taken her under his wing and taught her what it meant to be a real cop. She owed him everything, which included not letting this screw up everything he had helped her build out of the ashes.

…**.**

**Two days later**

"Why did you come to New York, and what do you know about my mother's case?"

Kate had asked him bolt out of the blue that morning over breakfast. She blurted it out quickly and without preamble, to keep herself from chickening out.

Rick nodded and motioned her over to his makeshift study off of the beach house's ample living room. The movie lot had generously purchased him a near state of the art smart board at his request when he first arrived to _"help him keep track of his open cases while he was away from New York"_ as he had worded his request. As she took a seat on the couch in front of it he powered it up and opened the file marked "Jake Newstead".

"I came to New York to find out who killed my friend, Jake and then made it look like a suicide. They even used his own backup piece." Rick said.

"This goes all the way back to 1997, Kate. Your own investigation was able to turn up the Robert Armen murder. Robert Armen was Jake's partner, he was his handler when Armen went undercover in the Pulgotti investigation when he was killed in that alley in Washington Heights, near Pulgotti's club. He'd been obsessed with the people responsible ever since, because he was fairly certain that Pulgotti was innocent...at least of that crime"

Kate's eyes went wide at that piece of information. It was one of the first things she had been able to dig up. Mostly from her mother's old case files. The ones that weren't in that strange cipher she used anyway.

"My mother's last case before she died." she breathed, "She was trying to get his conviction overturned and get him a new trial."

"She was doing more than that." Rick said, "She was secretly working with Jake, not only to clear Pulgotti, although that's what initially drew her in, she was helping Jake try to bring down the shadowy figure behind it all, behind the "ghost crew" who were kidnapping mobsters for ransom, and behind the murder of Robert Armen, his partner. He was hoping that because they were paying such close attention to him that her investigative work would go unnoticed. Obviously she had gotten too close to something important, for which she, and her legal aides paid with their lives."

Kate's shocked expression quickly gave way to tears. This was part of her mother's case she had never known about. That she and her father had been carefully insulated from. Her long hours at the office, the way she had been more quiet in the summer leading up to her departure for Stanford. It was all starting to make sense now. Rick's friend had been chasing a monster, recruited her mother in the cause, gotten careless, and gotten her killed.

Rick knew this was why he had decided to go it alone after that. His conscience had kicked in. He had gotten Kate's mother killed, and burdened by his guilt, tried to go after them himself. He had only sent the files to him as an insurance policy, knowing what he'd do if anything went wrong. Only it didn't go they way Jake wanted it to. The one thing he hadn't counted on, was that they had somebody inside the FBI.

With this out of the way he said the one thing that Kate had not been prepared to hear.

"Kate, we need to back off from pursuing this."

"What?" she shouted, "What do you mean back off? We need to hunt these people down. I'm ready, I've been ready for a decade to get these guys and now you want to back off?"

"Kate, these aren't the kind of criminals you're trained to deal with." Rick said, trying to keep his cool, "They won't come at you head on, they'll come at you sideways probably through people you care about. This won't be a case, or an investigation to them. If we go after them too soon, they'll turn it into a war."

"If they want a war, I'll give them a war, right to their doorsteps." Kate said angrily

"That's what Jake wanted, too." Rick said quietly, quietly, his voice so still and even, it ran shivers down Kate's spine, "He wanted to take the fight to them, go right down their throats. He ended up dead in the same alley as your mother."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Kate choked out, nearly in tears again, "Walk away? Let them just get away with it?"

"Absolutely not," Rick said, "but we need to fight smart if we want to take it to them with a chance in hell of coming out alive."

"What's your plan?" Kate asked, finally beginning to realize he wasn't advocating giving up.

"We walk away for now, bide our time, let them think it's over." Rick replied darkly "When the time is right, and they least expect it, we bury them."

Kate mulled over what he was asking of her for a moment, saw the wisdom of what he said. His friend had been haunted by this even longer than she had, he had tried to do it alone after getting her mother killed, and failed. She realized Rick was right, now was not the time. Though that reckoning would not be long in coming. She had waited this long, she could wait a little longer. This man who had once saved her life with his books may have just given it meaning again with his words. Safe in that knowledge, she did the only thing she could think to do.

She kissed him.


	12. The One That Got Away

**Chapter Eleven  
****The One That Got Away**

Seeing Kyra Blaine again had been a more painful experience than Richard Rodgers would have thought. For both of them. She was the one woman in his life who had never known Alexis. Never had that lingering pain from the joy of having her in their lives then losing her to cruel fate. Had Kyra not left him with a broken heart, he would never have met Meredith, they would never have had Alexis and his life would never have been reduced to this empty shell it had become since she died.

He didn't blame Kyra for the current state of his life though. He wouldn't have traded the eight short years Alexis had been in his life for anything. Her brief candle had lit his world and reshaped it in ways that even now, he could not understand, even though losing her had nearly destroyed him.

He had had to follow Kate's lead in this investigation, he was too close to Kyra to be objective. When she had called him, asking him to meet her he had nearly balked. She was a suspect in the case, though he couldn't possibly believe that she would have done such a thing. She simply wasn't that cold blooded.

Against his better judgment, he had met her on the rooftop where they used to go for romantic interludes when they were in college together. She had called him, concerned that her fiance might be a murderer. Against his instincts and his better judgment, he went. Her pleas tugged at that small part of him that was still Richard Castle and he found himself strapping on his pistol, putting on his black motorcycle jacket and heading for the door.

Their conversation on that rooftop had driven home the changes in both of their lives. The fact that she was engaged to be married and that this was supposed to be her wedding day spoke volumes. She had been violently opposed to the very idea of marriage when they had been together. Knowing that this was something he wanted from her had been one of the things (the other being her mother's disapproval) that had driven her to run away to Europe and break his heart.

"What happened to the Rick I used to know? The fun loving devil-may-care dreamer. Why abandon your writing and choose this?" She asked, motioning toward the bulge in his jacket where the sig protruded.

He told her about his brief marriage to Meredith, and about Alexis. He showed Kyra her picture and told her about her life how she got sick, and about how she died. Her face flushed with sympathy and she hugged him, her eyes brimming with tears as she finally understood why he seemed so distant now. She wept, not only for the daughter he had lost, but for the man he used to be. The man that was now forever gone, buried with his daughter. A man who had been replaced by this stranger who shared his face, and his voice but lacked his joyful spirit.

After a few false starts and dead ends, they were able to clear the case and absolve Kyra's fiance Greg of the crime. Rick was sincerely happy for them both. Or at least what passed for happy for him anyway.

Kyra Blaine was in his past, she would be _Kyra Murphy_ soon enough. Any relationship they might have had, had things gone the other way would only have served as a constant reminder of what could have been had things been different all those years ago. They were two completely different people now. He knew in his heart that eventually resentment would have creeped into their relationship and driven them apart in the end. Greg Murphy was a good and honorable man. Kyra deserved someone like that in her life. Not this empty shell of a man she once knew that he had become.

Rick was actually pleasantly surprised when Kyra showed up at the precinct the next day. She extended invitations to both himself and Kate for their less formal exchange of vows the next day to which they both accepted. Kyra motioned toward the break room and Rick followed her inside and closed the door.

"I went to Alexis' grave yesterday," she said quietly, "to pay my respects."

"Thank you." Rick replied.

"I'm deeply sorry for what you went through, and I hope that someday you find a way to come to terms

with what happened to her and learn to live again. If you ever need to talk...please call me. Whatever it is, I'll listen."

A single tear drifted down Kyra's cheek for the man she once loved as she kissed him on the temple and slipped out of the break room. As she walked past Kate's desk, she was pretending to read and file and hadn't been watching them through the break room window. (said file was upside down) Kyra lightly touched her on the shoulder and whispered in her ear.

"He's all yours now."

Kyra had seen how Kate and Rick had interacted with each other. The glances and subtle gestures they directed at each other. The way they finished each others sentences and how their strengths complimented each other. She could see that there was something there between them. Something beautiful and new, something they both needed without knowing they needed it.

"Take good care of him, okay?" she added, knowing in her heart that he would likely need time.

"I'll be here for him when he's ready," Kate replied solemnly, "until then, we'll take care of each other. It's what partners do."

Kyra nodded and hoped it would be enough. His pain and sense of loss had swallowed up everything he he had ever been. She only hoped that one day he might get at least some it back. He hadn't deserved the way she had abandoned him all those years ago, and had she known the agony that had been in store for him afterward, she would have done things differently. Nobody deserved the hell that he had been going through all this time. Not even her mother would have wished this upon him.

The next step in his journey, however was his to make, though maybe Detective Beckett's too. She could only wish him, wish both of them, well.

As she walked out of the precinct house and out onto the street, she was swallowed up in the embrace of her soon-to-be husband, and they walked quietly toward their waiting car.

"I may have said some rather unkind things to him when he took me into custody, but he seemed like a pretty decent guy in the end. I hope they make it."

"So do I." Kyra said with a sad quiet sigh.

"What's wrong?" Greg asked, concerned at her sad eyes.

"Ask me again later," she replied, a small smile reappearing on her face as they got into their car and headed back to the hotel, "right now we have a wedding to get rescheduled."


	13. Uncharted Territory

**Chapter Twelve  
****Uncharted Territory**

Richard Rodgers sat at his desk at the precinct and contemplated the three months he had been away while he was catching up on the paperwork from his open cases. He and Kate had split the workload so they could have the weekend free to build theory on their own open case that was best kept out of the precinct, away from prying eyes and ears that may be there. Both in the form of surveillance as well as well-meaning friends and colleagues.

The two months they had spent together in Malibu were probably the happiest he had known since the last time he had taken Alexis to the Hamptons. Though nothing even remotely sexual took place there (neither of them were quite ready for _that_, especially not him) the two of them spent a lot of time walking the beach either arm in arm, or holding hands. Usually at sunset. It had started for the benefit of whomever might be keeping discrete tabs on them, but it had slowly become more than that. To the point where it became almost second nature, even inside the rented beach house to touch each others hand during dinner or while sitting on the back porch looking at the ocean.

Kate had comforted him when he came back to the beach house nearly in tears because he saw something at the movie lot that he thought Alexis would have loved. The fact that he would never be able to share it with her had hit him harder than he thought. He, in turn had held a shivering Kate when she woke up screaming and in tears from dreams about her mother.

Without either of them realizing it, a slow, agonizing healing process was beginning for them both. The common bonds of familial grief and loss soothing each others rough edges till they began to fit together. Neither of them had ever drifted into a relationship this slowly. What they had between them was gradually growing beyond a partnership, beyond friendship and was very slowly becoming something more. Both of them knew it, and deep inside both of them wanted it more than anything, but neither wanted to push too hard for more. At least not yet. What they had now was just too new, too fragile, too potentially beautiful, they didn't want to ruin it by pushing too far, too soon.

Rick knew that whomever was behind all of this would not be content to sit idle simply because they had seemingly backed off. He wasn't certain that Kate was fully aware of the level of surveillance that she was likely under. Including here in the homicide squad room. There were eyes and ears here, he was sure of it, likely both human _and_ electronic. He swept every corner of the loft daily, and Kate's apartment as often as he could without her noticing. Usually while she was busy cooking when they met at her place.. He hoped it was enough. He didn't want to make her paranoid, he had enough paranoia over this for both of them.

Casually his eyes circumnavigated the room, just as Jake had taught him. His former writer's mind conjuring likely scenarios of "who's the spook?" a game he had once played for fun with his daughter before she died, then later played for real in the FBI...generally with much higher stakes than who got to choose dinner, or who got out of washing the dishes after.

Though he had not withheld any of the solid information at his disposal from Kate, some of the wilder theories Jake had shared with him, he studiously kept to himself. Most notably the possibility that a U.S. senator might somehow be involved, or at least tied to the murders in some way. It seemed far fetched even by the standards of his former occupation.

One of the feelers he had put out with some of his contacts from his days as a writer had panned out, however. The wound pattern on Johanna Beckett had not been as random as the original ME had concluded. Nor was the wound pattern unique. Three other murders with nearly identical wound patterns had been found in the OCME records each dated within weeks of hers. Two had worked closely with Johanna Beckett at her law office, and another had been to a city clerk.

He needed to get back to the loft and sweep for listening devices again. He could not take even the slightest chance of what he found being overheard when he revealed it to Kate. He could not afford for their adversary (or adversaries depending on how deep this went) to know they had found something big.

Part of him was unsure whether he should reveal this information to Kate before he could have it independently verified. There were only a few people he could trust to do it discretely, but only one to whom he would not have to transmit the information to do so...Lanie Parrish. He doubted he could ask this of her without Kate finding out about it second hand from her friend, and he couldn't bear the thought of her reaction if that happened. He would trust his partner to have his back, and he hoped that it did not cause her more pain than was necessary.

**Later that evening**

To say that Kate was upset by what Rick's contact had uncovered would have been a gross understatement. She wasn't angry, at least not at him. She was deeply hurt and upset over how the justice system had not just once, not just twice, but three times failed her mother. The murders had never been connected because they had all taken place in different precincts and jurisdictions, investigated by detectives who, like Detective Raglan, couldn't, or wouldn't look outside of the box. When he finished telling her what had been described to him, he saw her eyes glisten, and her lower lip begin to quiver, as she turned and fled from him with a whispered apology.

He found her curled up in the closet near the front door to the loft, quietly crying, as if she was ashamed of her tears. It broke his heart to see her curled up in there sobbing, and trying to hide it like a small child. Alexis had done virtually the same thing the day she had been diagnosed. Though he had buried this particular memory deep down, he could actually still picture his own little girl in exactly the same position, her red hair hiding her face as she cried fat guilty tears at the unfairness of it all.

Kate had told him about her father's fight with the bottle after her mother had died. How she had tried so hard to help him, only to be disappointed almost constantly. How she tried to be a rock for her father, only to find herself not up to the task, snowed under as she had been by her own grief. Rick wondered how many times she had hid her pain from her father this same way, ashamed that she couldn't hold the remnants of her crumbling family together. It shattered his own broken heart that there had been nobody there for her, least of all the one person she needed most...daddy.

He did exactly what he had done for Alexis all those years ago. The one thing Kate had needed back then, but had been denied her by a father too consumed by his own pain to see the damage he was doing to his daughter. He ran a soothing hand over her shoulder, kissed her softly on the top of her head, all the while uttering soothing nonsense words. When she eventually leaned into him for comfort, he slid one arm behind her back slipped the other under her knees and carried her to the couch where he pulled off her shoes and cradled her until she cried herself out.

There was nothing he could say to make this better or easier for her, so he said nothing, merely silently offered her comfort, which she quietly accepted. For the rest of the night, they sat there in the dark on his living room couch, saying nothing, but communicating volumes.

This felt _right_ to him somehow. In a way that _nothing_ had since that dark morning in 2002. It was as if somehow, somewhere, Alexis was telling him that it was okay for him to let her go now. That her father was no longer alone in the world, and Alexis Marie Harper Castle could now finally rest in peace.


	14. Death of A Murderer

**Chapter Thirteen  
****Death of a Murderer**

Rick Rodgers hadn't thought that the evidence that had turned up showing that the method of Johanna Beckett's death not being unique would become relevant so quickly but from the time the body of Westies enforcer Jack Coonan dropped, Rick Rodgers felt an overwhelming sense of dread. Lanie had discovered that he had been killed with the same thrust to the kidneys followed by the multiple posthumous strikes to the back used to try to disguise it as a less directed assault. The very same M.O. as Kate's mother and her associates. All dead by the same hand.

When she had announced her findings to them, he thought for a moment that she was going to withdraw like she had in the loft a few days ago, but she managed to stay on her feet and outwardly kept her composure. He had heard the sharp outtake of her breath followed by the hollowed out expression in her eyes when she looked at him, however. She was in shock, but was doing her best to hide it.

When Rick called his source who had helped him make the connection with the other cases, a man now revealed to be none other than preeminent Medical Examiner, Dr. Clark Murray. One of the best and most sought after practitioner of forensic medicine. He had still been in town, so Rick called him to consult (with Lanie's overeager blessing) and when he arrived at OCME to compare notes, he informed them all, that whomever had killed Jack Coonan was indeed the same man who had killed Johanna Beckett and her associates in 1999.

Kate took it like a punch in the stomach. Her anxiety had risen to a fever pitch. She was so close to losing her composure that she took his arm and was leaning against him for support, something she had never done while they were on duty before. (at least not while in the precinct or here in the morgue) She looked over at him, a silent plea in her green flecked brown eyes.

Rick could tell she was on the verge of falling apart, something she didn't want to do in front of all these witnesses. She needed to get out of here, but needed his help to provide a graceful exit to protect her dignity, which was the only thing keeping her together at the moment. He gently squeezed her arm and nodded his understanding of her silent plea, before placing a few inches of distance between them.

"Detective Beckett and I need to get back to the precinct." Rick said, authoritatively, "I'll leave you two to go through all of the evidence and crime scene reports for anything that was missed, both now and back then. Get back to me on my cell if you learn anything."

With that, he placed a hand at the small of Kate's back and guided her out of the room. She was about as quiet and fragile has he'd ever seen her. Her calm and placid exterior evaporated as soon as the elevator doors closed on them. She nearly collapsed into him as she fell apart and quietly sobbed into his chest as he brought his arms around her. It was like the scene in the loft all over again.

"I...I'm...not sure I can...I can...do this..." Kate breathed out between sobs, "I need to...talk...to my dad...he deserves...to know."

Rick could clearly see that Kate was overwhelmed. After nearly a decade of fruitless searching, chasing down leads that went nowhere but blind alleys, this was the closest she had ever been to the man who had killed her mother. After the revelations of the last few days he could understand her being thrown off by how fast things were progressing. She needed time to process everything, to get her bearings again.

"Of course you do, Kate, let me deal with this. The last thing the Westies want is federal trouble, I can handle them. You do whatever you need to do...even if it's nothing. I've got this." Rick said while

Through his ties with the FBI, he was able to obtain wiretap transcripts that told them that Coonan had been sent to find out who had been dealing drugs in their territory, and discourage them from continuing such behavior...permanently. This lead them to the body of a known heroin trafficker who had gone by the name of "Trucho" The man had quite the record with the narcotics division, who sent their file on him by messenger.

The list of his known associates led them a so-called self help guru named Johnny Vong whom, after some convincing in interrogation, gave them the tidbit of information that led them to his brother Dick Coonan, whom he insisted quite strongly had put out the hit...on his own brother!

When Kate had returned from her talk with her father, she had arrived just in time to prepare for the interrogation. Rick found her in the observation room for interrogation room two, staring through the glass at Dick Coonan. She was very quiet, and seemed, for her, to be very small. It reminded him of the way Alexis looked the night before she started chemo the first time...lost.

"Are you okay?" Rick asked her quietly.

"Ten years..." she said quietly in an even tone, her arms crossed over her chest her eyes never wavering from Coonan, "...since we came home and found that detective waiting for us. Ten years since we crossed that yellow tape and went into that alley, and every time I cross the tape at a crime scene I think of that night."

Rick placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"That's what makes you such a good cop."

Her breathing hitched a little in her chest before she turned to look at him, the same plea in her eyes that had been there this morning in the morgue.

"What if I let her down?" she whispered, the fear and anxiety in that simple whispered statement nearly floored him. This had been her driving force all these years, spurred on by his books, she had become a cop and then a detective all because she felt she had let her mother down. Left her to die, alone in that alley.

"You won't." Rick said to her, his eyes filled with steely conviction, "I won't let you."

This statement garnered him a small, nervous smile.

"Now go in there and do your job."

Do her job she did. In a very subdued one on one with Coonan she had offered him a plea deal of second degree murder in exchange for the assassin known as Rathborne. He had countered with a deal of transactional immunity. When Captain Montgomery got the D. A. aboard to make the offer he gave up how he had contracted him for the job. There was one hitch to setting up a sting to get him. There was no way the city was going to spring for 100,000 dollars up front.

"Leave that to me." Rick said, enigmatically.

All eyes turned to him, including Kate's, of course only she knew where this other source of revenue was coming from. Nobody else knew that he was once Richard Castle, crime novelist. His rather large bank account had been quietly gathering interest since 2003. To him one hundred grand would be a drop in the bucket.

Coonan's lawyer reminded them all that his immunity would kick in the moment Rathborne accepted the deal.

….

When they set up the sting to reel in Rathborne, everything went according to plan...only no Rathborne. From that moment on, Rick knew they had been played, likely by Coonan, who now had blanket immunity from the one charge of murder they had him on. At least in New York. Kate had offered to pay him back the money but he refused. He knew how important this was to her. It was a small price to pay.

Rick had one last card to play, though. One contingency he had prepared to play in case something like this went down. He had remained studiously out of the negotiations for the plea deal. Never once set his foot in interrogation. Now it was time for him to make his move.

As Coonan was on his way out of the precinct, shaking hands with his lawyer, Rick, flanked by Kate walked up to him.

"I don't think you should be congratulating your lawyer just yet, Mr. Coonan."

"I have immunity," Coonan stated flatly, "What more needs to be said?"

"You have immunity in New York, nothing was ever said about federal charges, you should have read the plea agreement more carefully." Rick said as he flashed his FBI credentials. "Special Agent Richard Rodgers, FBI I'm taking charge of this prisoner to be remanded for prosecution for multiple counts of first degree murder under special circumstances."

As an officer stepped up to slap the cuffs on him, Coonan moved with unnatural speed, crushing the officer's windpipe and pulling his weapon. Before Kate could move to intercept him, he had her by the neck, with the gun pressed into her spine. A spot he knew full well would cause near instant death if he fired.

"Two fingers, detective." Coonan said, his voice cold, devoid of any emotion, "Take it out, drop it to the ground."

Kate did as she was told, she had no choice. He could feel the barrel of the 9mm Glock pressed into the small of her back. The next play was Coonan's.

"Here's what's going to happen." Coonan said to Rick "We're just gonna stroll on over to the elevator, nice and easy."

Montgomery was over by the murder board when he turned his head and saw them passing by. He knew something was up and moved to intercept them without giving himself away.

"You knew when I arrested you, didn't you?" Kate said stiffly, "That my mom was your victim."

"It was nothing personal,okay? " Coonan said as if he were talking about the weather, "She was just another job."

"She was my mother." Kate replied coldly, "Who hired you to kill her?"

"Hah...forget it, you'll never touch em. Not even with your FBI boyfriend there. They'll bury you, I'd heard they did a fed not long ago."

Rick's head snapped around at that statement. The only FBI agent to die in New York City recently was Jake. This man could corroborate his assertion that Jake hadn't killed himself.

"Tell me who." Kate demanded again

What Coonan hadn't counted on, was Montgomery rounding the corner in front of them drawing his long nosed .38 and pulling back the action in one smooth motion.

When Coonan reacted to the new threat, Kate made her move, nodding her head forward and picking up her right foot, she simultaneously slammed the heel of her shoe down on his foot and slammed the back of her head into Coonan's nose, breaking it. As he staggered back in pain, he brought the gun up aiming for Kate's head. Rick drew his Sig Sauer and fired in one smooth unbroken motion, center-punching him straight through the heart with a .40 caliber round. Coonan was dead before he hit the floor.

"No!" Kate screamed as she dropped to the floor, began trying in vain to perform CPR on Coonan.

After a couple of cycles of futility, Rick placed his hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her away. As he pulled her close, she broke down sobbing into him. This was the closest she'd ever been to the people who had killed her mother, and the one man who knew their identity was lying dead on the floor. The man who they had paid to do the deed. She was left with no more answers that when she had arrested him. Her sobs broke his heart.

….

**Four hours later. **

**Rick's loft**

Rick sat in his office in the loft. He had left the precinct as soon as IAB and their FBI counterparts were done with him. Captain Montgomery had had Ryan take Kate home while he was still being debriefed. The shooting was confirmed as good and his gun was returned to him. He was contemplating where fate would take him next, though his mind kept going back to Kate.

Before he could come up with any answers, though there was a soft knocking at the front door. When he opened it, Kate was standing in the doorway, with a bag from the Chinese place that the team liked at lot.

"Are you hungry?" Kate asked, a wan smile on her lips, her eyes betraying how tired she was as she held aloft her peace offering.

" I could eat, yeah." Rick replied with a slight smile of his own as he waved her inside. She was safe and she was still talking to him, that was all that mattered right now.

Rick felt a certain amount of guilt for ending the Coonan's life. This man could have led him to the people who killed his friend, and destroyed his reputation by making it look like a suicide. Led him to the people who had ordered the deaths of not only Jake's partner, but of Kate's mother and her associates too. But when he weighed all of that against the life of Kate Beckett, the scales would not balance.

He took the life of a remorseless killer to save the life of the woman he cared for. It was the only choice possible. The living should always come before the dead.

Always.

….

**CIA Headquarters: Langley Virginia  
Three days later**

Sydney Bristow walked into the main foyer of the CIA building for the first time since 1997. She had been summoned by somebody frighteningly powerful in intelligence circles, Director of Operations, Richard Webb. At one time, every agent in the CIA saw him as the boogey man. Known then only by his code name: Nemesis. Power he had wielded as the head of Project Archangel since the early seventies. At one time the mere mention of his code name, or Project Archangel was all it took to put the fear of God into anyone even remotely dirty. She had been stalked by one or two of his operatives when she was with SD-6, before she learned the truth and become a double agent to take them down.

It was whispered that Sloane's later change of heart was less because he changed his mind, and more because Nemesis himself had paid him a visit. Walking through his personal security like he was ghost. The man was unnaturally quick and spry for someone his age.

Though Project Archangel had been deactivated years ago, the victim of budget cuts, it's former head still wielded formidable power in government and intelligence circles. He had survived nearly every administration since the Nixon era, (and it was rumored that he had even had a hand his resignation) by being a very shrewd political animal and he knew where a lot of skeletons were located and who's closets they were in. When it came to finding people's secrets, he made J. Edgar Hoover look like a lightweight.

She didn't know what he wanted with her after all this time. The Rimbaldi affair had been put to rest years ago. She didn't know what to expect when she was ushered into his office but one thing was certain. When someone as powerful as Richard Alexander Webb called, it was wise to show up and hear him out. She was lost in thought, staring at Michael Vaughn's star on the wall of heroes when the receptionist cleared her throat to get her attention.

"Miss Bristow, Director Webb will see you now."


	15. Worlds Collide

**Chapter Fourteen  
****Worlds Collide**

Janet Karpowski's farewell dinner was a subdued affair. She was transferring to a desk sergeant's position with the major case squad. Her progressing pregnancy had her thinking long term. She needed a more stable working environment with more regular hours than the duties of an active homicide detective could allow for.

Everyone was wishing her well in her new position, congratulating her on her promotion to sergeant, and for her and her husband's soon-to-be first born. She had kept her pregnancy quiet right up until she started to show, and the hormones started to impact her work. She knew when she burst into tears at a standard pop and drop, it was time to come clean with everybody.

She really loved being a homicide detective, but when she weighed the uncertain hours, and dangerous nature of the job against the child she was carrying in her belly (she knew that she was carrying a girl) and her husband the choice was abundantly clear. Her family had to come first.

Captain Montgomery was sorry to see Karpowski go, but as a father himself, he understood where she was coming from. He had personally sponsored her for the sergeant's exam, and when she passed, he pulled some strings to fast track her transfer to the Major Case squad, who's desk sergeant was retiring after twenty years on the job.

Her replacement, Detective Sydney Bristow was a transfer from LAPD's Vice unit. She would be arriving in a few days, and had a very impressive record in Los Angeles. Her cover had been blown, and she had received death threats, so it had been necessary to get her away from the West coast. Regardless of why she was leaving the LAPD, Montgomery was shamelessly eager to poach good talent from wherever he could get it. He only wanted the best in his precinct.

The name Bristow seemed oddly familiar to Richard Rodgers. He dimly remembered a rogue intelligence group posing as a CIA splinter cell in Los Angeles around the time he had first made Special Agent, which had been exposed by a CIA operative named Bristow. He and Jake had taken part in some of the raids on the group's headquarters and a couple of their safe houses. SD-6, he believed they were called. He had led his first team in a raid on one of the safe houses.

Rick set the thought aside, though, as he gave Karpowski a hug and handed her a present for her baby's crib. A floppy stuffed monkey that was a near twin to the one his daughter had had cherished her whole life, and had taken with her in death. (He had tucked him under her little arm personally in the funeral parlor) It hadn't been easy to find one so close to Monkey Bunkey, he'd had second thoughts when he first bought it, as it brought up all sorts of melancholy thoughts and memories. In the end, he asked Kate's advice, who thought it was a wonderfully sweet gesture and convinced him to give it to her anyway, just without the back-story.

Janet Karpowski would never know just how personal a gift she had just been given. She only wished that she would never know the sadness that lay just behind his steel blue eyes. When they had all found out about his daughter and how she died, she had just found out that she was pregnant. She had been ashamed to have been one who came up with the nickname "Beckett's pet fed" and had propagated some of the nasty rumors about him that had spread like wildfire around the precinct until Ryan had spilled the beans. It was because of the loss Agent Rodgers had suffered that she had decided to make this change. If, God forbid, something like that should happen to her child, she wanted to spend every possible moment letting her know she was loved.

….

**Three Days Later**

Richard Rodgers knew that Kate was not going to be happy when he arrived at the crime scene. It was the second murder in what appeared to be a series of murders directed at her. The unsub had called her twice. The first call had been on her personal cell phone, and the second at the precinct. Both had been to announce the dropping of bodies. The had been made personal to Kate. This man was killing people and rubbing her nose in it, practically daring her to try to catch him. It was a direct challenge to her personally as both a woman and as a detective, and she had risen to the bait.

The New York Field office had called him directly on his cell. He'd gotten the call shortly after the call that had alerted them to the second body, and he told her to go on ahead. For the first time in weeks they arrived at a crime scene in separate cars.

He had been dreading the confrontation that was coming. Kate was already crouching next to the body, conferring with Lanie, she was on the hunt now, every synapse of her being focused on the case and his superiors had left him with no other option but to shut her down.

"Kate, we need to talk." Rick said, hoping to do this gently.

"Can it wait, Rodgers? I need to focus on the case here."

"No, Kate, it can't." he said quietly, "I need you to stop and pull your team from the crime scene... right now."

Are you kidding, Rodgers? This guy is taunting me, daring me to catch him. I can't walk away now."

Rick knew that Kate had a personal stake in this, just like he had when they investigated Kyra Blaine as a suspect in her bridesmaid's murder. After the guy's taunting first call and the first body had dropped, Lanie had found letters scratched into the bullets in the man's corpse. When arranged properly they spelled "_Kate_" To say she was both unnerved and angry was an understatement. She wanted this guy.

She wasn't listening. He'd had to do this before, but in this case it was much more difficult, because he cared about Kate's feelings, but he had orders, orders he couldn't refuse if he wanted to keep them both under the radar of the conspirators in the _"other"_ case they were working on...the _unofficial_ one.

He knew what he had to do, he just didn't like it. He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning the formalities of his profession. When he opened them again, Rick Castle was once again buried deep, and his eyes burned with steel in them. A loud, autocratic tone he had hoped never to have to use with somebody he cared this deeply about.

"Detective Beckett, The FBI Violent Crimes Task Force is taking over jurisdiction in this case, effective immediately. As senior field agent on the scene I _order_ you to cease and desist all further activity."

Kate stared at him, a look of hurt and betrayal marred her beautiful features as confusion gave way to the realization that he really was taking this case..._her case_...away from her, without so much as a _"by __your leave."_

"I need you to get your people on the other side of the crime scene tape, and have them secure the scene for Special Agent Jordan Shaw."

"Rick..." Kate began, her eyes pleading, but then took on a harder edge as she realized he wasn't going to back down, and anger began to set in.

"It isn't my call Kate," Rick said, hoping to soothe her hurt pride, "this came down straight from the Director, himself. My hands are tied, I'm sorry."

He tried to reach out for her hand, but she turned angrily on her heel and jerked her left thumb in his direction.

"Ryan, Espo, everybody out!" she commanded angrily, "_The FBI_ is taking over."

Before Rick could say another word, she ducked under the crime scene tape and stalked away, leaving silence and recriminating stares at Rick in her wake. When Ryan and Esposito looked at him coldly his face fell and he slumped his shoulders.

"Honest, guys, this wasn't my call. I didn't have a choice."

Rick ducked under the crime scene tape to follow her, but stopped at the fence surrounding the carousel, noting the motorcade of black Suburbans announcing the arrival of his former team, now led by Special Agent Jordan Shaw. Part of him felt a little homesick, as at one time he would have been driving the lead vehicle in the procession. It was a familiar enough sight, though he had never before witnessed it from this perspective. He understood better now the frustration that many local L.E.O.'s felt whenever that procession of SUV's rolled in.

He saw it clearly in the look of betrayal in Kate's eyes, and the cold, angry stares from Ryan and Esposito. He was supposed to be part of _their_ team, but now he wasn't. It was a stark reminder that in spite of everything that had brought them together in the past few months, he was still an outsider here. It added a bittersweet air to an already awkward reunion with the team he had once led, but now held little official standing.

He waited at the gate as Jordan approached, giving orders to Avery.

"Rope off a ten foot circumference around the carousel, sweep for prints and trace evidence. Close off the park entrance at six, work up the entire footpath."

Avery hadn't noticed him as he walked briskly off to convey her orders to the rest of the team. Rick wasn't offended, it was just they way he operated when he was focused. It was one of the traits that made him good at his job. There would be time to catch up with the others soon enough.

"Jordan!" Rick called out to her with his hand extended. "I got shuffled out of town before I could congratulate you, I was glad that they stuck with my recommendation for you to replace me."

"Rick, good to see you again, I wanted to thank you for that," she replied, pulling him into a chaste hug, "I'd heard you'd been doing well for yourself out here. Nice tan."

"How's the family doing?" Rick asked politely.

"Good" she replied, "And your mother?"

"She's holding up better than I would have expected, though she does her best to keep busy." He replied. Both of them knowing the small talk was doing little to dispel the awkwardness they were both feeling, but they were both gamely trying anyway.

"I heard you had to bring Meredith back from California and take her to rehab again." Jordan stated, a hint of compassion softening her features, "I know that couldn't have been easy for you."

"She seems to be adjusting well to the routine there," Rick answered, "I think she really wants it to work this time."

"That's good." Jordan said, nodding.

Rick saw Kate emerge stiffly from around the carousel, after reassigning her detectives and crime scene technicians to securing the perimeter that Avery had obviously just relayed to her. Her expression was still cold and angry, but the mask of professionalism had once again descended. When Rick waved her over, she hesitated for a moment as several emotions played themselves out across her face, but she schooled her features and walked brusquely in their direction.

"Detective Kate Beckett, I'd like you to meet Special Agent Jordan Shaw of the VCTF." Rick stated, as she stopped in front of them.

"Jordan Shaw?" Kate asked, clearly impressed, "The same Jordan Shaw who broke the Hudson Valley Strangler case back in 1991?"

"I also play a mean game of Scrabble." Jordan quipped with an amused grin before getting right down to business.

"You're the one he's fixated on, aren't you?" she asked pointedly, "I've never gotten to him this early before. The subject of his obsession is usually dead by the time we get called in."

Rick's eyes snapped to Kate at that, as she glared at him, still thinking he had done this. Before she could come up with a suitable angry comment, though, Jordan caught on to what was subtly going on.

"We got an anonymous tip, but I'm sure it came directly from our unsub. He sees himself as a modern day "Jack the Ripper" probably saw "...From Hell" one too many times. After the whole business of my taking over VCTF from Rick it's possible that he may have taken notice of me as well." Jordan took stock of the tension between them, and then added, "I'm sorry if I caused any friction between you two, Rick, but I've been chasing this guy for two years now. I had to get the team in here and set up before he really got wound up. He nearly always kills the object of his obsession when he's done. I want to catch him and put him in a cage where he belongs before that happens."

Rick cast a nervous glance at Kate, who had briefly displayed a "deer in the headlights" expression on her face before she carefully tamped it down and schooled her features again. This time when he reached for her arm, she let him. Her anger had dissipated with the realization that this had been sprung on _him_ without notice too, not his overprotective attempt to protect her from her job, or force her off this case.

"Jordan, if we try to take Kate completely off of this investigation, it will attract his attention." Rick said, "He might escalate, or break his pattern altogether. Then any hope we have for predicting his movements enough to stop him will be out the window."

"Very astute, Rick," Jordan quipped impishly with a slight wink, "I guess you actually _learned_ something while you were my boss. Now both of you, get out of _my_ crime scene."

As Kate reluctantly ducked under the new perimeter crime scene tape, Jordan grabbed Rick's arm to pull him aside.

"I need to tell you something, we didn't really get a chance to talk before you left, but you deserve to hear it straight from me."

Rick allowed her to pull him aside. When Kate turned back to look at him, he motioned that he was ok, and to keep going as Jordan pulled him farther away from the crowded crime scene, to a more secluded area behind the bathrooms.

"I made no secret of the fact that I wanted this job, and I complained quite loudly to the brass when you got it instead of me."

"I remember"

"You took me onto your team in spite of that, knowing how hard I had lobbied for this job. I wanted it badly, but I didn't want it this way. When I was told about your suspension, and the revocation of your status as Special Agent in Charge...for dereliction of duty and insubordination of all things, I filed a formal protest of your censure."

Rick nodded and waited for her to continue.

"It was Avery who cautioned me to back down, he told me that you had fallen on your sword, and not fought the unlawful censure and suspension, to shield my reputation from any political blow-back."

"Good man, Avery." Rick said, "You were always the first choice for that post, the brass just thought you lacked the field experience to lead a team. I was never going to be there very long, just enough time to groom you to replace me. I made my bed and had to lie in it, I didn't want you to be dragged down with me, the team deserved better than some stuffed suit. Now get back out there and do your job. You have a crime scene to run...sir."

With that, he ducked under the crime scene tape, and was gone.


	16. From The Ashes

**Chapter Fifteen  
****From the Ashes**

Richard Rodgers stood in the middle of Ben Conrad's apartment, alternating his gaze between the chalk outline on the floor, the crime scene photos and the list of ingredients for cyclonite. His message _"Kate Will Burn"_ running on an endless loop in his head. Something didn't smell right here and it wasn't the embalming fluid. He couldn't explain it, but the whole thing just didn't add up.

It was too neat. Too tidy. Too..._easy_. Ben Conrad had been served up dead, as if on a silver platter.

All of the pieces seemed to fall into place, but under closer scrutiny, they just didn't fit together right. A guy like this wouldn't allow himself to be cornered so easily, would not have given up without trying to finish his masterpiece. The realization hit him like a runaway train. The gun was in the wrong hand! He had seen it in his right hand in the window, but it had fallen from his _left _hand near the body.

_Ben Conrad wasn't their killer! _

Rick dropped everything in his hands and ran for the door, pulling his cell phone from his belt as he took the stairs to the ground floor, dialing Beckett's number. He kept getting her voice mail.

"Come on Beckett...pick up!"

….

Kate Beckett dropped her jacket in a chair inside her apartment and toed off her four inch heels. It had been a long day, tracking down leads with Rick while trying to keep his spirits up. It couldn't have been easy for him to suddenly be a nonentity in a unit he had not only once led, but had put together personally.

There had been several awkward moments between Rick and Jordan too. The first time they had assembled in the war room and Jordan had begun giving orders, every eye in the place went to Rick first. He had done his best to remind them that Jordan was in charge, but in the end, with her frustration mounting, Rick had decided to walk away rather than become a further distraction, or a threat to her authority, bitter resignation written all over his face.

If she had had any lingering doubts about whether he had called them in on purpose, the expression on his face when she found him at his desk, his fingers tracing the frame of his daughter's photo, cured her of it. This experience was just too bittersweet and painful for him to have casually invited it.

They had gotten the guy before he could kill her, though That was all that mattered. Jordan and her team would pack up their war room in the morning and things would go back to what passed loosely for normal for herself and Rick.

Kate padded into her bedroom removed the chain bearing her mother's ring, slipped her father's watch from her wrist and placed them both in her jewelry box, followed by her sidearm in it's drawer. After which, she slowly undressed, wrapped a terrycloth towel around her lean, athletic frame and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. As she set the water temperature to her liking, dropped the towel to the floor, stepped over the side of her cast iron claw-foot tub and slid the shower curtain closed, she didn't hear her cell phone ring in her living room...

Rick drove like a man possessed, the gumball on the roof of his FBI issue suburban flashing overhead. Every few minutes trying Kate's number. As he arrived at Kate's apartment, he leaped from his vehicle trying her number again. When she finally picked up and asked him what was gong on.

"It wasn't Ben Conrad! He's not the Killer! The Killer's still alive! Get out! NOW!"

The last thing he heard over the line was a quiet beeping followed by "Goodbye Kate"

Then there was a tremendous explosion as the entire floor that Kate's apartment was on exploded in a massive fireball, the subsequent shock wave slamming Rick to the ground.

….

"Kate! Kate! Are you in there? Kate!"

Rick kicked in the door to Kate's apartment with a hard, practiced movement. Instead of swinging open, though, the whole door simply toppled onto the floor. Rick stepped over it and into the burning, smoldering wreck that was once Kate Beckett's apartment.

"Kate." he said more quietly, a hint of desperation to his voice.

"_No! Not her too...after all this I can't lose her too...Dear God...no..."_ the panicked thought came unbidden into his mind as he scanned the smoldering wreckage of her living room, where he had spoken to her just the night before to check on her security arrangements when this whole thing had just begun.

"Kate!" he shouted again, his voice cracking slightly, whether from the smoke, or the dark, terrifying emotions nibbling at his insides threatening to engulf him, he didn't know.

As he moved carefully deeper into her shattered apartment, he heard quiet coughing noises coming from the direction of her bathroom.

"Kate?"

He called out to her again hope beginning to creep into his heart for the first time since the cyclonite bomb had detonated. He practically ran to the doorway to her bathroom, and saw her hand reach up to grab the side of the tub, a coughing fit erupting from her.

"Oh thank God, you're alive!"

He yanked the partially charred bathroom door off from the top of the tub. It had obviously taken the brunt of the damage, and her cast iron tub had taken the rest. _ "Otherwise, this close to the blast, the heat and the pressure wave would have seared her flesh and crushed her bones, killing her instantly."_ His traitorous mind supplied, remembering the M.E.'s report from that long ago abortion clinic firebombing case. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly to push back that thought then opened them again, realizing for the first time that she had obviously been taking a shower when he had called...she was naked.

Without a second thought, he shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her as she rose shakily to her feet.

"I dove into the tub just as it blew" she said shakily, her voice only revealing a small amount of the shock and pain she was obviously feeling.

"_Good girl," _Rick thought to himself, grateful for her quick thinking.

"Can you walk?" he asked, as he helped her over the side of her tub, not sure she should be walking barefoot across the burning embers of her once hardwood floor. She seemed really shaky to him. That cough worried him too.

"I think so," she replied, "It's just a little banged up."

"Nice and easy, Nice and easy," Rick soothed, as she stumbled a bit, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. She leaned into him for support, as she stumbled again. Her legs obviously too wobbly to navigate the unstable wreckage of her once pristine apartment.

She wouldn't ask for more help though, Rick knew that, her pride was just too strong. Without further comment, he simply hooked his other arm behind her knees, swept her up off of her feet and before she could offer a word of protest, swiftly proceeded to the exit. She made a token effort to struggle against him, but offered little real resistance as he cradled her to him and carried her though the utter devastation that was once her home. She buried her face in his chest as the realization became to much to bear that she now had...nothing. A single tear escaped from her to wind its way down her cheek.

….

Jordan Shaw wound he way through the various police, fire department, and EMS vehicles until she found the ambulance she was looking for. She was frustrated...furious with herself mostly that she had missed critical evidence that Ben Conrad had not been the killer. Their unsub had left a trail of breadcrumbs and she had merrily allowed herself to be led down the garden path of his deception. Detective Beckett had nearly died as a result.

As she neared the ambulance bearing Kate Beckett, now wearing her exercise gear from the trunk of her car, and Rick's FBI windbreaker over her shoulders as the EMT finished wrapping the sterile bandage around her left forearm, and another applying a butterfly dressing to the minor laceration on her left temple as she slipped her arms into it. She seemed pretty shaken up and a little bit lost.

"Beckett," Jordan said quietly, "how you doing?"

"Yeah...m'fine." Beckett said quietly, lacking any real conviction, as she hugged Rick's windbreaker to her slender frame.

"What did you see when you came home?" Jordan asked, all business now.

"The...uh doors were locked...like I'd left them, and the windows were shut. I dunno, nothing seemed out of place." Kate replied, trying her best to replay in her mind what she saw when she got home.

"But...I don't know, because I thought the case was done."

"It's not, but you are." Jordan said, her eyes betraying compassion, but her tone was all steely conviction.

"What?" Beckett said, the haze in her mind clearing briefly.

"Till we find the right guy." Jordan replied.

"Wait!" Kate said as she stiffened, her pride putting steel in her spine, "This is my apartment, okay? My life, and my case!"

"Okay, fine," Jordan said, steel coming into her own eyes, "My rules. You do what I say, when I say, and how I say it. And there will be a security detail on you at all times."

"Fine."

"Good."

Captain Montgomery approached them, with Rick close behind.

"Fires out, you can head up now if you want."

….

Watching Kate Beckett navigate the twisted smoldering wreckage that was once her apartment was a nearly painful, visceral experience for Richard Rodgers. In her dark clothes and flat shoes she seemed a small broken thing, pulling his FBI windbreaker close to her chest as the smell of charred wood and smoke made her shiver involuntarily. He longed to be able to make this easier for her, as he bent over at the sight of a metallic glint, to find the man's watch she always wore, it's face cracked, and it's hands stopped at 10:15 the time of the explosion.

As he stepped closer to the living room, where Kate was bent over a nearly unrecognizable piece of wooden furniture, she pulled the chain holding her mother's ring from the remains of her jewelry box.

"Has anybody found my father's watch?" Kate's voice nearly broke as she spoke the words.

He knew if she saw it in this broken state, it would be worse than if she didn't see it at all, so he slipped it into his coat pocket, which still smelled slightly like her, and decided to have a jeweler friend of his mother's take a look at it. At least he could do that much.

"It wasn't in there." he said as he jerked his thumb back toward the slightly less damaged bedroom.

Her sidearm was a complete loss, it had been nearly on top of the cyclonite bomb. The intense heat so close to the epicenter of the blast had warped the barrel and set off all of the rounds in the clip at once, nearly destroying the grip of the alloy and ceramic Glock. Her backup piece was missing altogether, but likely hadn't fared much better. Another problem he could fix, as he began to keep a running tally in an attempt to keep the tears out of his eyes at the sight of his wounded partner, and the slowly simmering rage out of his heart directed at the unsub who had done this. An unsub who was in the wind, still gunning for Kate Beckett. He had failed to kill her the way he wanted. Failed to complete his cycle of violence to his satisfaction. This failure, Rick knew, (as did Jordan) would make him _more_ dangerous, not less.

"Come on Beckett, lets get out of here. I have something for you.

….

As Rick and Kate walked into the 12th Precinct's gun range, Rick pulled a pistol carry case that Jordan had given him out of the duffel bag he had brought up from his car.

"Kate, I'd like to introduce you to a close, personal friend of mine."

He opened the case, removed the black-finished pistol from it and held it out to her.

"This is the Sig Sauer P226, feel the weight."

Kate took the pistol from him and hefted it. The balance was good, though it was slightly heavier than the Glock she typically carried. Her eyes brightened a little, when he produced a loaded magazine from the same bag, and held it out to her. She took it from his hand, and slid it into the grip of the pistol he had given her, slapping the magazine home and pulling back on the slide to chamber a round.

"Go ahead and squeeze off a few rounds, shooting .40 caliber takes a little getting used to, but you'll get the hang of it."

As she sighted downrange and pulled the trigger, her first few rounds went a little wide of the target. Slowly, as she became more familiar with firing the heavier round, her groupings became increasingly tighter. After firing another two clips, she was once again hitting the target with the same accuracy she had with her Glock.

She rather liked the larger holes the .40 caliber made in the target. After the threatening phone call she had gotten from the killer after finding his bolt hole in Ben Conrad's apartment, followed by another dead body, She felt oddly comforted.

….

Over the next thirty six hours, her comfort level dropped significantly. They discovered the stolen identity he had been living under whilst in New York and traced him to his apartment. Upon searching it, they had found another piece to the puzzle. Their unsub was a budding writer. He like to write of his exploits, with himself has the hero of every tale of his exploits, besting the silly women who got in his way.

After they un-assed from the apartment and waited for him to return. When he finally showed, he was spooked by something out of place, and bolted. Kate had directly disobeyed Jordan's direct order to stay in the communications van and had gone after him on foot...alone. She had gotten within feet of him, but he had slipped onto a subway car and made his escape. In spite of her physical description of their man, who was now positively identified as Scott Dunn, Jordan was less than pleased.

"You're out."

"I'm sorry, what?" Beckett stuttered.

"I told you to stay in the van." Jordan countered.

"I just broke this case!" Kate shouted indignantly

"I need people backing me I can trust." Jordan shot back, her ire rising.

"Hold on..."

"Sorry detective, you're off the case. Agent Rodgers is too, you're both too close to this."

Kate had tried to go to the captain, but he told her that there was effectively nothing he could do. Jordan Shaw was in charge, and Kate was out. Rick could tell she was upset. This case was too personal for it to not get to her. It was getting to him, too. He cared about Kate, more than had for anyone other than his mother in a long time and Scott Dunn had tried to kill her. His feelings about that were far from professional, they were absolutely primal.

He wanted to find him. Wanted to be alone in a room with him for just five minutes so he could beat him to death with his bare hands. Wanted to see him die painfully for daring to touch her. Jordan was right, he was far to close to this to be objective and he knew it.

"You've been running flat out for days, you need to go home and get some sleep." the captain told her, regretting the word choice almost immediately.

"Sir, I don't have a home!" Kate replied, her voice cracking a little. Doing her best to hold back tears of frustration.

"Yes you do." Rick stated. "It's a secure building with two extra bedrooms. Throw in a federal detail at the door, it's the safest place in the city."

"Thanks Rick, but I couldn't." Kate said, her voice shaking with both anger and...something else she couldn't identify.

"You can and you will." Rick replied calmly.

"Consider it an order then." Montgomery added, leaving Kate no room to back out now.

….

As Rick drove Kate back to the loft in his FBI issue Suburban, (there was no way he was letting her drive _anywhere_ in her current state) he could tell that Kate was in turmoil. The further they got from the precinct they got, the more Kate's emotions drifted from angry to sullen, then moved into melancholy as she stared out of the passenger side window at the moving street scene beyond.

They had stopped only briefly at the shattered remains of Kate's apartment, where they quickly tossed what could be salvaged of the clothes from her closet and departing before Kate's feelings of hurt and violation got to be too much. He dropped off the majority of her clothes at an all night dry cleaner he had always favored before going home. The rest could be washed in the laundry room at the loft.

All of the events of the last few days were finally beginning to take their inevitable toll. Lack of sleep, recent trauma, and too much coffee had made a mess of her barriers. As a result, her emotions were all over the place. Working the case had given her enough focus to pretend nothing was wrong, but with that focus gone, now she was forced to deal with it. Which she was doing...badly.

She knew in her head that Agent Shaw had been right to pull her off the case, she hadn't been thinking clearly since the explosion in her apartment. Her emotions were a mess, and all of her filters were gone. Going after Dunn alone had been a colossal mistake, a lapse in judgment that could have gotten her killed. In her heart though, she raged. _"I almost had him."_

As Rick and Kate entered the loft, he could tell that Kate was thoroughly exhausted. She would never have admitted it to anyone in the precinct, but she could barely keep her eyes open. Her shoes were constricting her feet and she could barely balance herself on their 4 inch heels. She needed a shower and she needed more sleep than the short naps she got in the precinct break room. Somehow Rodgers knew exactly what she needed. Almost before she herself did. He disappeared for a moment and returned with a set of yoga pants and an oversized (at least for her) red t-shirt.

Kate toed off her shoes before attempting the stairs and Rick snagged them as he guided her up the steps with the lightest of touches to her elbow. She had rarely seen such gentleness in a man as large as him. His bearing had changed from the business of being an FBI agent to the gentle sensitive man he had obviously once been. Kate looked up at him, and for the first time saw warmth in his eyes. A warmth she knew had been missing from them since January 9th 2002. It nearly brought her to tears that this warmth was meant for her. She felt unworthy of such an honor.

….

"_Goodbye Kate..."_

_She ran naked from the sound of Dunn's voice as the flames caught her, burned her flesh from her bones which shattered in the concussion wave. _

_In the next instant could clearly see her father kneeling in a drunken stupor over two headstones, one bearing her name..._

….

Kate snapped awake, a silent scream on her lips. She rose to a seated position in the unfamiliar bed, _Rick Rodgers guest room_ her sleep addled mind supplied. She sat up in bed, noting the slippers that had been placed next to bed. _"That man...he thinks of everything" _she thought to herself as she slid her feet into them and padded out the door to find the bathroom to splash some water on her face.

She had not realized she had made a wrong turn in the hallway until she flicked on the light and saw not the bathroom she had been expecting, but a little girl's bedroom. In stark contrast to the sterile nature of the rest of the loft, from which Richard Alexander Rodgers had wiped away nearly all traces of Richard Edgar Castle, this room looked almost ready for his beloved Alexis to come home and take up residence again. Her bed was neatly made, the blankets obviously having been laundered recently. Her stuffed animals neatly arranged near her pillow, keeping their silent vigil for a mistress who would never return. Her books neatly organized as she had left them on her bookshelf. Kate errantly pulled open a drawer to find her clothes washed, neatly folded and put away. The entire room a silent memorial to Richard Castle's shattering loss. A loss that had destroyed him, burned away everything that he once was.

He had been forced to build another from the ashes, keeping only this shadow of his previous life and the little girl who once shared it. The tears Kate Beckett had been fighting against since she arrived in the loft broke loose and fell as she turned out the light and slipped quietly from the room. Quietly, reverently closing the door behind her. Still feeling distinctly unworthy of the loving warmth in Richard's eyes. The first person to receive such warmth from him, since that room's occupant last walked these halls. She fled back to her guest room, threw herself back on the bed and wept bitter tears, her whole body shuddering with choking sobs for a man she was coming to love.

She wanted to be worthy.


	17. Back In Black

**Chapter Sixteen  
****Back in Black**

Special Agent Jordan Shaw exited the elevator into the 12 Precinct's parking garage talking animatedly to her daughter on her cell phone. She took every opportunity to check in with her and always made sure to call at bedtime to help her husband "tuck her in." When she wasn't on a case (which was far too often sometimes for her case) she made every effort to spend as much time with her as possible. Her only real regret she had about her job was that it required her to spend so much time away from her family. Every missed milestone in her daughter's life cut her heart deeply, making her doubt her fitness as a mother. When she first met Richard Rodgers she had wanted to dislike him, he had taken from her a job she wanted. But as she got to know him, she recognized the haunted look in his eyes. The sad look on his face on the one occasion she brought Lindsey to "take your daughter to work day" even as he doted on her like a favorite uncle, spoke volumes to a woman who profiled people for a living.

When she looked up his file with her brand new security clearance and found out about the loss of his own daughter, it damn near broke her heart. The very thought of losing Lindsey chilled her blood. She knew he effected Lindsey too. The first thing she had asked when she drove her home that day was, "Why does your boss look so sad all the time?" She didn't know how he managed to get through the day, much less lead such a productive career in federal law enforcement. She hoped she never had to find out for herself.

As she wished Lindsey good night, she could not see anything amiss as she approached her FBI issue Suburban. She climbed in and everything seemed clear until after had buckled in, started the vehicle and looked back to back out of the space to find the barrel of a small 9mm Glock pressed under her chin and a cold, emotionless voice quietly said, " Hello Jordan...drive!"

She was in absolutely no position to resist, buckled into the driver's seat as she was, as she felt his free hand behind her back relieving her of her service weapon, handcuffs and cell phone. As she pulled out of the parking structure, she felt the small Glock migrate to press roughly into her waist pointed at her liver. After driving a few blocks, she was directed to another parking structure where she was roughly pulled from the driver's seat, her hands secured behind her back with her own cuffs and unceremoniously shoved into the trunk of a car...

….

When Kate Beckett woke the following morning, sunlight was streaming in the windows through the open curtains in Richard Rodgers' guest room. Though crying herself to sleep had not been the most dignified way to get a full night's sleep, she had to admit she was feeling more like herself, and less of an emotional mess this morning. She was forced to admit that getting a full night's sleep in a real bed had done wonders for her state of mind. She had managed to sleep soundly the rest of the night without any further troubling dreams of her near death experience just a few days ago.

The accidental foray into Rick's daughter's bedroom, which had obviously been turned into a shrine dedicated to the memory of a young life tragically cut short, lovingly maintained by a father and a grandmother struggling to cope with such a tragic loss, had given Kate another glimpse into the mind of his partner. She had seen this more than once as a homicide detective. Her heart ached for him and the pain he must carry with him every day.

She had spoken of him to her father not long before she had left for the trip to Malibu at the beginning of last summer, it had brought a tear to his eye. He warned her to tread carefully if she was truly interested in pursuing a relationship with him. She need to be patient and simply be there for him when he needed her. The rest would come in time. She didn't know where he had gotten this particular pearl of wisdom from, and part of her was unsure she wanted to find out if her dad was moving on with his life yet or not. She really hoped it was just something he picked up at an AA meeting.

She set those errant feelings aside for the moment though, as she once more slid her feet into the slipper her host had provided and padded out the door. Her first stop was the bathroom, to take a shower and freshen up, then she decided that breakfast was in order. She knew precisely how to thank her partner for his generosity...

As Kate was busily making scrambled eggs and bacon, while the toast was in the toaster, Rick's front door opened to reveal a redheaded woman in her early sixties casually stepping inside, wearing a light blue jacket over a stylish pantsuit. The woman stopped short for a moment, aghast, as if trying to figure out what she was doing there.

"Hi," Kate said nervously, "I'm Kate, Rick's partner at the 12th precinct..."

"Ah yes, darling," Martha replied, the shocked expression widening into an approving smile, "he has spoken of you several times in very glowing terms I might add. I'm Martha Rodgers, Rick's mother. It is so nice to finally meet you!"

Kate wasn't sure how to respond when the older woman took both of her shoulders in her hands and kissed her on both cheeks.

"Forgive my earlier shock, but it has been so long since my son has had company here that I was taken aback for a moment. I have been worried about him since...Alexis...since his life got turned upside down."

I have worried about him every day, since he ran off and joined the FBI, chasing down terrorists and serial killers and the like. I almost thought he had a death wish since..."

Martha kept trailing off, dancing around the subject that she couldn't bear to put into words.

"He may have reclaimed the name I gave him when he was born, but in nearly all the ways that truly matter, he is not the little boy I raised. He was a naturally happy person...once. He truly loved and enjoyed life but then...after...she..."

Martha trailed off again, and Kate could tell that this subject was every bit as painful for Martha Rodgers as it was for Rick. Like her son, she compartmentalized pain, she just did it differently, but it was still there behind those pale blue eyes. Her suffering being all the more difficult to bear, because she had the added pain of watching what the loss of his little girl did to her son.

"Martha...I understand...when my...mother was killed I shut down, closed myself off. I watched as my dad crawled into a bottle and didn't come out for five years. I tried so...hard to hold everything together...to make everything better...but it all fell apart. I was spiraling into oblivion...my only refuge was Rick's books. They...kept me sane though the darkest time of my life. Filled me with hope, and a sense of purpose. I was still broken inside...closed off...just like he was."

Kate contemplated her hands resting on the kitchen island for a moment before continuing.

This past summer in Malibu...we really opened up to one another...it's like, our broken pieces...fit somehow. Rick and I...we're moving toward something, I think. When we're together, I feel less broken inside...he makes me want to be...more than what I am. There's a connection we seem to share, Like our broken pieces...fit...somehow. It's hard to put into words."

Martha's face brightened considerably as what Kate said began to register for her. Before Kate could say another word, the older woman pulled her into a fierce hug.

"You cannot possibly know how happy that makes me!" Martha breathed into her ear, "If you could see the way he lights up when he speaks of you, his eyes fill up with light and warmth I haven't seen in him in years, something I had feared was lost to him forever."

Martha paused for a moment as she pushed Kate back to lock eyes with her, then pulled her in close again, Kate finally relaxing into her embrace.

"Because of you, I know that I may one day get my son back, even if it's just a piece at a time. I can dare to hope again. You two take all the time you need, I will help in any way I can!"

When Martha pulled back from Kate again, there were tears in her eyes, streaking her near perfect mascara. As she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue that had materialized from her purse, Rich emerged from his bedroom, drawn by the smell of eggs and bacon.

"Hmm...something smells good." he said sleepily.

Rick pondered a moment the look that passed between Kate and his mother. A look that he hadn't seen cross Martha Rodgers' features since he first handed her a certain red haired pink bundle nearly fifteen years ago.

"Well, I'll get out of your way and let the two of you enjoy your breakfast," Martha said as she adjusted her purse higher on her shoulder, "Until tomorrow, dear ones!"

As she passed by where Rick sat at the kitchen island, she planted a maternal kiss on the top of his head and whispered in his ear.

"Don't let this one get away, kiddo, she's a keeper."

With that, she swept from the kitchen with a flourish worthy of a Tony Award as she exited the loft like the Broadway diva that she was. As the front door closed behind her, her eyes once again welled with tears of joy for her Richard. She had seen it in his eyes, the warmth in his gaze, the unwavering love and affection she could plainly see as he looked at Kate Beckett.

One day, she was certain, she would see the return of the Richard she remembered so fondly. Not the emotionally stunted, closed off caricature of himself he had become that dark day when both of their lives had been torn apart.

Her heart soared.

As Rick and Kate continued to eat breakfast, a call came in on Rick's cell phone. It was Agent Avery.

Kate saw his mild grin give way to concern, and then to anger.

When he finally hung up, he looked up at her,

"Get dressed, Kate, we need to get to the precinct. Eight now."

"Rick? What is it?" Kate asked, sudden concern on her face.

"Jordan never made it home last night."

….

When Rick arrived in the FBI war room, he immediately began issuing orders, and the team instantly obeyed.

"When was she last heard from?"

"She was last heard from by her daughter shortly after taking you and Beckett off the case." Avery responded. "10:05 PM"

Rick snapped his head to Avery, raising his voice so everyone in the room could hear him.

"As senior agent on scene, I am assuming direct authority of this operation. Effective immediately."

His eyes scanned the room, briefly locking eyes with every agent and support staffer.

"Any objections?"

"I think I can speak for every one here, when I say, no, sir!" Avery responded.

"Okay then I want GPS tracking on Jordan's cell phone and vehicle, I want a street by street search out to of every place Dunn might hole up."

"I want her found and I want it done yesterday people, I am not going to explain to her daughter why her mommy isn't coming home."

As Rick swept angrily from the room, one of the agents was heard muttering.

"Lay out your cards ad your backgammon boards, 'Lucky Buck' is back!"

When he came back in, his cell phone rang...it was Dunn.

"How does it feel to have your balls back, Agent Rodgers."

"Dunn, if you harm her, there won't be anyplace on this earth where you will be safe from me."

The cold malice dripping from his voice elicited a shudder from Kate, she had never seen this side of him before. He wasn't making a threat, she could tell he meant every word.

"You want her back? Come to the Battery Park Ferry terminal at midnight tonight. Bring Beckett."

The line went dead.

"We have access to a full HRT squad, we can swarm the place and get her out." Avery said.

"We both know it's a trap." Kate replied.

"I have an idea." Rick stated.

Dunn was not nearly as smart as he thought. He'd watched too many old movies. Didn't realize that cell phone triangulations were much more precise than they were several years ago. They had his exact location he had called from within a 10 feet. A building adjacent to and overlooking the building he had indicated.

The HRT teams stacked up preparing to hit the false location on Rick's signal. He gave them their final orders.

"Ladies and gentleman, you are being asked to stick you necks in the noose. This is obviously a trap, and Dunn has been known to play with incendiary explosives. I need you to get in, make as much ruckus as possible. Hold his attention while we show him he's not as smart as he thinks he is. When tech support kills the camera feeds for a one block radius get right back out again. Be ready to re-form and hit the building that Detective Beckett and I will be moving into. Move out."

"Yes, sir!" came the united response of the HRT team. An agent was in harms way, it was time to bring her home.

….

It was dark and quiet in the building that Dunn was using as his hideout. Rick and Kate moved quietly though the building, carefully checking around corners as they headed for the old warehouse's former office area.

"The HRT squad will be breaching in 30 seconds, when they do, we move." Rick said to her, when the hammer fell and the door swung open on the trap, they caught sight of Dunn.

Kate stepped out of the shadows and yelled, "Scott Dunn, NYPD! Drop your weapon and come out with your hands up!"

He fired two shots and fled, when she gave chase, Rick moved for the stairs to the office.

When he reached the room Jordan was being held in, he kicked in the door, and when Jordan looked up weakly a black eye marring her features he quipped almost sardonically,

"How many times have I told you to check your vehicle _before_ you get in it, Jordan?"

"Nice to see you too, Rick." Jordan replied weakly.

After releasing her from her own handcuffs and giving her his backup piece, he called in support, pulling the HRT squad out of Dunn's trap.

"Help's coming Jordan, but I need to back up Beckett!"

"Go, Rick."

Kate was busy hunting her prey, Dunn had fled here, but he was a caged animal, backed against a wall. Montgomery had taught her that this made him more dangerous, not less.

"Dunn! Give it up! It's over!"

As she neared a dumpster, he dropped from a above and pinned her arms with his, but he was all over her, she tried to block him, but she slammed her into the wall and when her grip on her gun faltered he took it. And shoved her roughly to the ground. He pointed the gun at her head

"That's how all my stories end, with someone else dead"

Rick came around the corner at just that moment, shouted at Dunn, aimed and fired. The .40 caliber hollow point round from his Sig Sauer hit Dunn dead center int the sternum flattened on impact and exited the directly behind him covering the wall with blood and gore as he dropped dead to the floor. Rick holstered his weapon and ran to Kate's side. She was breathing hard, it was the second time in as many days that Dunn had nearly killed her and it was taking its toll.

As Jordan rounded the corner, Rick's borrowed Glock 30 in hand, she noted the scene.

"Nice shooting Rick." Kate breathed finally.

"I was aiming for his head." He joked

….

After bidding goodbye to Jordan and her team as they packed up the war room and headed on their way, Rick and Kate had just finished enjoying a wonderful meal they had cooked together in the Loft, and sat down on the couch together over a glass of wine when he produced a gift bag from one of his bookshelves and handed it to her.

"What's this?" Beckett asked, not sure of the occasion.

"Open it." Rick replied.

She slid her hand into the bag and pulled it back out again, and her eyes glistened.

"My father's watch." Kate said quietly, a single tear slid down her cheek. She thought it had been destroyed, lost forever, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Rick replied, "I found it in the wreckage and had it fixed."

Be lifted his right hand and brushed the errant tear from her face with his thumb.

"Thank you for saving my life today." Kate said as she took his hand in hers, their fingers intertwining, as she leaned forward and kissed him.

"Always." Rick replied.

In this moment, he knew he would never want anything more in life than to be by her side. He could no longer envision his world without her in it.

Always.


	18. Phoenix Rising

**Chapter Seventeen  
****Phoenix Rising**

Newly minted NYPD Detective Sydney Bristow settled into her new desk in the 12th Precinct's homicide squad room. As she took stock of her surroundings, she slid her 9mm Beretta into the top right drawer and began to place her meager possessions from her previous posting onto it. Until a new one could be made for her, she slid the name plate from her old desk in LAPD Vice which read Det. Bristow into the holder and set it into place on the side facing the aisle.

She had turned in her LAPD badge to Captain Montgomery when she had arrived this morning and after filling out the requisite paperwork, was issued her NYPD gold shield. Captain Montgomery had offered her the standard issue Glock, but she had elected to stick with her LAPD issue Beretta. She'd had to jump through a lot of procedural hoops to retain it, and unlike many who had switched to the Glock in Los Angeles, she rather liked the feel of her Beretta.

She had put in a lot of time customizing this weapon, making numerous modifications over the years to make it more "Sydney friendly." Early in her career as a police officer she had gotten in touch with one of her former SD-6/CIA associates who broke it down to the frame and modified it to fire the .40 caliber round for added stopping power.

Perps who felt confident enough to take on the young-looking slender brunette suddenly found themselves facing down a huntress. She had been verbally reprimanded twice for charging after suspects on foot without backup. (some habits from her old life died hard) She had also once been cited for excessive force, though the charge had been dropped by IAB. Primarily, because the man's ruffled pride couldn't handle being bested by a slender brunette who looked more like a fashion model than a cop.

With the exception of the undercover stings dressed as a prostitute, she had rather liked working Vice. She got a thrill out of taking pimps and drug dealers off the streets, even though new ones generally replaced them by breakfast. For her it was the thrill of the chase that made it worthwhile. But, after Michael had died in Paris working one last mission for the CIA, a mission he had felt obligated to finish himself, she knew it was time to get out of Los Angeles. She couldn't bear to live in the home they had shared, and everyplace she went in the city reminded her of him. This new assignment for one of the most powerful men in U.S. Intelligence could not have come at a more opportune time.

Director Webb had set up the circumstances of her cover being blown on a drug case to near perfection. She had been in just enough real danger to to make her superiors believe that she was in serious jeopardy. The icing on the cake had been the hired assassin sent after her by the Colombian drug cartel, who worked under the assumed name of Cole Maddox. He had been hired to perform an up close and personal kill, intended to send a message to anyone who might snitch that even undercover cops weren't safe from the cartels.

He had really given her a run for her money, one of the best she had ever faced. He was definitely good at his job. Had she not known about him in advance, (Director Webb had provided his complete dossier, including his real name, Cedric Marks and his service record) she would likely have never seen him coming. Even with the knowledge of his capabilities, training and a lot of preparation on her part he had come very close to succeeding. He was just that good.

The only thing that had saved her had been her very thorough hand to hand combat training courtesy of her days in SD-6. Had she been any other cop, (male for female) she would not have survived. Police officers simply were neither trained nor equipped to deal with Special Forces trained assassins like Maddox. He had clearly underestimated her, the dossier he had been provided cited only her cover story as a former teller for Credit Dauphine before joining the LAPD, and she had been trained extensively to take full advantage of such mistakes.

The fight had been brutal, he had given her bruises in places she didn't even want to think about, broke two fingers on her left hand, and seriously sprained her left wrist. Maddox had gotten away, but she made certain the bastard had known he'd been in a fight anyway. She was certain that she had cracked at least one of his ribs with the collapsible baton she carried, and hyper-extended his right arm, possibly to the point of a shoulder dislocation or rotary cuff tear, though the groin pull she had given him when she intercepted that last kick he spun at her is probably what had forced him to withdraw before her backup arrived. She had been well trained to ignore the civilized disdain for fighting dirty.

She was certain his former "employer" had been made aware of Cole's displeasure at being thrown under the bus. The man was found dead in the middle of his private estate in Bel Aire, his head carved out by a .308 Lapua round, three weeks later. She would never know how Webb had manipulated the man into hiring Maddox in the first place, and a small voice in the back of her head told her she probably didn't want to find out.

Captain Montgomery had put her on light duty for her first two weeks, until her sprained wrist and broken fingers were fully healed. Until then, she would be shadowing Detectives Ryan and Esposito while she became acclimated to NYPD procedures and had a better working knowledge of the precinct. She found it rather comical the way Detective Esposito followed her every move like a lost puppy. She could clearly see that Ryan found her attractive as well, the way he fumbled over his words when he spoke to her spoke volumes. She just might stay here after her current assignment was complete. That option was one of several that Director Webb had put on the table.

Her orders from Webb were simple. Settle in to her new precinct and keep an eye on Agent Rodgers. Do her best to determine why he had stepped back from his investigation into the death of Agent Jake Newstead and render all possible assistance if needed. Wetwork had been authorized at her discretion if necessary.

Captain Montgomery mused about the newest detective in his precinct, and found two things readily apparent. First was that there was more to Sydney Bristow than met the eye. She had a dancer's feline grace and an infectious, nearly childlike smile, but like Rodgers, there was a sadness in her eyes. His precinct seemed to attract people with an unpleasant past, he mused to himself. Given his own history, he was certainly unwilling to judge on that score though. The second, that Detective Bristow was so similar in her build, appearance and taste in footwear to Kate Beckett that it was almost scary.

….

Kate Beckett sat on her bed in Rick Castle's guest room, staring at her father's watch clutched almost reverently in her hands. It was her symbol of the life she had saved, her father, but now it was also coming to symbolize something more. Not just of someone saved, but of something found. Something she had not been aware had been missing from her life until Special Agent Richard Rodgers of the FBI, with his haunted eyes and tragic past so similar to her own had walked into the 12th Precinct and into her life.

She had certainly not been celibate before she met him by any stretch of the imagination, but this was the first time she had known a man she could not see herself ever walking away from. She had always been careful up until now to involve herself with men who were...expendable. With Rick it was different. When she looked into his beautiful blue eyes or kissed him, she knew she could never envision her life without him at her side now.

He was in her veins now, and there was no hope of getting him out. It scared her a little, this all consuming need for his presence in her life. Part of her braced for flight, like she had done in the past whenever she felt that a man was becoming too attached to her. Whenever the thought of love or a future that didn't involve solving her mother's case reared it's head. The walls surrounding her heart had been just that strong. Somehow, he had slipped past all of her defenses, seeped into her very soul and now her life was inexorably linked with his.

Richard Rodgers was searching the markings of boxes in his storage unit in the basement of the building. Among the possessions she had lost with the destruction of her apartment had been copies of all of "Richard Castle's" books. He had several copies of each of his first editions down here, at one time they were the only occupants of the climate controlled storeroom.

When he found the stack of boxes he sought he pulled a volume from each box until he had copy of each book. He sat in a chair near the entrance signed each and every one of them with the name Richard Castle, one at a time. These books were of little value to him now, but he knew that she would cherish them, read them often, treat them with a reverence he could no longer bring himself to feel. He doubted he would ever be able to bring himself to write again. It was one wound that went too deep, and would likely never heal. No matter how much he might wish otherwise for Kate's sake, he could simply no longer find the words.

He had carved himself out a new life from the ashes of the old one. A life that had given him renewed purpose, and a genuine feeling of accomplishment. He swore an oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, both foreign and domestic. He had dedicated the reminder of his life to that service and had been more than amply rewarded for his dedication, because it had brought Kate Beckett into his life.


	19. Salt and Old Wounds

**Chapter Eighteen  
****Salt and Old Wounds**

Detectives Kate Beckett and Sydney Bristow circled each other warily in the sparring circle of the exercise room. They were the same age, similar height and build and shared some of the same tastes in clothing and shoes, but there the similarities ended. Kate was a coiled spring capable yet tightly wound. Sydney was looser, carried herself with a dancer's grace smooth and fluid in her movements.

On first observation they would seem to be evenly matched, but what no one in the precinct knew (especially not those few present making bets) was that Sydney was no ordinary cop. Unlike Beckett, she had not been trained to subdue and apprehend, she had been trained to survive and complete her mission. At any cost. It was a fighting mindset that provided certain advantages in the field of espionage, but had caused Sydney difficulties when moving up the ranks in the LAPD.

Though she had numerous citations for valor, her record was also spotted with accusations of excessive force. She was thought to be a loose cannon in her last posting in vice. These were implications that Kate could not ignore. Aside from that she liked what she saw. Her arrest/conviction record was good, nearly as good as her own, and in Vice that was saying something.

Kate knew something else too, Bristow was good. It had taken nearly everything she had, every dirty trick she knew to hold her to a draw in this sparring session, and the woman wasn't even breathing hard. She was holding something back. Like she was trying to disguise her full capabilities, or she was simply toying with her...waiting for something, she wasn't sure.

Before Kate could contemplate this for long, she felt sharp pressure applied behind her knees, sweeping her legs out from under her. She would swear later that she hadn't even seen Bristow move, she was simply that fast. The next thing she knew she was flat on her back, the woman's athletic shoe at her throat, putting an end to the contest. Sydney stepped back and offered her hand with a friendly smile on her lips, not even a hint of malice, or even cocockiness in her expression, merely confidence, like she knew the outcome before the fight even started.

She was quite glad that Bristow was on her side. If she could control her tendency to go rogue, she would be quite an asset to the team.

….

Will Sorenson stepped out of the elevator and into the 12th Precinct homicide squad room for the first time in nearly two years. His eyes swept the room, looking for Kate. He had tried to warn her about Richard Rodgers, but she had obviously paid no attention to what he'd said. Though he knew her tendency to lean toward stubborn, and the fact that he had chosen his career over her were likely culprits in her decision to not only ignore his warnings, but to run off with him for the summer. Then he heard that she had nearly been killed, and his sources had her living in his loft now. He was gonna put a stop to this, right now. Before anything else could happen to Kate.

Agent Rodgers was bad news. He knew that his obsession with his friend's case would likely drag her back into her own, especially if she thought they were linked. On top of that he had orders. Orders to keep tabs on Richard Rodgers, monitor his activities. If he wasn't guilty of something, why would he need to be watched?

If he couldn't get Kate to stay away from him, he would have to get him to walk away from Kate. It really was for her own good.

When he found Kate's desk, he saw her partner's in front of it. An outdated laptop, and a small picture of a young redheaded girl, who looked at least five years old and not much else but his nameplate. The black bordered frame had two dates, eight years apart. A dead child, perhaps a reason for his erratic behavior. His record for clearing child kidnapping cases was second to none in the Bureau, likely due to this. Before he began chasing ghosts like his mentor had, tilting at windmills till he lost his damn mind and shot himself right next to where his former partner had died. He had closed the Jake Newstead case himself, and he didn't like having his judgment second guessed. Especially not by hotshots from DC with a personal ax to grind.

He had it on good authority that Rodgers was merely riding out the clock on this assignment now, anyway. He had played the game, made nice to the higher ups and was likely to return to Washington DC in a year or two to resume his meteoric climb up the ladder. He was likely only using Kate for his own ends, to entertain himself while in exile. He had decided to put a stop to that.

He spied Rodgers in the break room making coffee on the new espresso machine. When had they gotten that? The last time he was here the coffee tasted like a combination of monkey piss and battery acid. Obviously the precinct was moving up in the world. Not that Rodgers seemed to care.

"I want you to leave Kate alone." He said as he stood in the doorway.

"You must be Will Sorenson." Rick replied as he turned around, his eyes devoid of any emotion. "I'd mind my tone of I were you, exile or not, I still outrank you."

"Don't play games with me, or with her, _Special Agent_ Rodgers, I don't know what your deal is, or what game you're playing but leave Kate out of it."

"_Agent_ Sorenson, I would remind you that what I am or am not doing is none of your business, and Kate is a grown woman and what she chooses to do, and whom she chooses to see is none of your business either. You made that abundantly clear when you walked away from her to advance your own career at her expense."

As their words became more heated through the open door of the break room, they drew the attention of the detectives in the squad room, most notably Detectives Ryan and Esposito, who rose from their desks to see what was going on between the two FBI Agents. As their heated argument began to move out of the break room and into the squad room words began to turn to physical shoving back and forth.

As Ryan and Esposito moved to break the altercation up, Kate and Sydney rounded the corner from the elevator, Sorenson, in the heat of the moment said possibly the worst, nastiest, most hurtful thing he could think of.

"Maybe if you'd put as much time into taking care of your kid as you are chasing this dead case, she'd still be alive."

"You son of a bitch!" Rick boomed as he slammed Sorenson back into the wall, all rational thought now lost to white hot rage. "How dare you!"

As his right hand cocked back, Esposito grabbed his arm and pulled him away from Sorenson, and Ryan stepped between them to keep the him from advancing to take advantage.

"Will, who the hell do you think you are?" Kate screamed as she herself moved on Sorenson and slapped him full in the face as hard as she could. "Get out of here, get out of my life and don't you ever come back!"

Sydney grabbed her in a loose arm bar and pulled her back, Beckett fighting her every step back as she pulled her away.

"Ryan, don't just stand there get that prick out of here before the Captain gets into this."

Her barked order shocked Kevin Ryan into movement as he grabbed Sorenson, and twisting his arm behind his back like he would a suspect, half walked, half dragged him into the elevator, and elbowed the button for the parking garage in the basement.

As they neared the Agent's car, Sorenson found his voice again.

"I was just trying to..."

"Shut up." Ryan said as his fist slammed into Sorenson's abdomen, folding him over like a card table.

"You've said quite enough already, and nobody here wants to hear any more your bullshit."

With that he opened the driver's side door to Sorenson's sedan, and shoved him into it.

"Get out of here, and don't come back."

Ryan slammed the car door shut and spun on his heel, heading back toward the elevator. Seething at how out of line the other agent had been. He had never wanted to beat a man to a bloody pulp so badly in his entire life. Coming as he did from a large Irish family, that was truly saying something.

He knew this guy was an asshole, just didn't think he was this much of an asshole. Lanie had told them about how he had broken her heart when Kate and Rick first looked like they were getting serious. She had been worried about her at the time. Rick was damaged goods, they all knew that, but Kate's history of picking men that were either bad for her or emotionally unavailable had been on her mind too. Though Beckett never spoke about her personal life, they could all see how good the two of them were for each other.

Kevin Ryan wasn't a violent man, in spite of his chosen profession, but hitting that bastard had felt good.

...

As soon as Ryan had muscled Agent Sorenson into the elevator and the doors closed, Rick shrugged out of Espo's grip and stalked away, his body language rigid, his eyes unfocused. He was clearly upset. Detective Bristow released Kate and backed away toward the elevator as if to prevent her from following.

She was new here, but she surmised enough from the man's body language to guess that he was obviously a jealous ex-boyfriend. Her primary instict had been to keep this altercation from getting out of hand, though. Keep her new supervisor and the man she had been enlisted to help from getting into the kind of trouble that assaulting an FBI agent could cause.

There were enough witnesses here in the precinct to make Sorenson think twice about filing an incident report with his superiors. He would have to explain why he had driven here all the way from Boston without a case to justify his presence and goad a superior into a fight over a woman he had dumped years ago. Though she was beginning to get a clearer picture of why Rodgers was backing off from his investigation. She had wanted to speak with him directly, let him know who sent her here and why, but right now just didn't seem to be the time to find out that she had been sent by his estranged father, a man he had never known, to help him.

She had some experience with how well that would go over, and she had known hers. Now was simply not the time.

….

Kate found Rick in the observation room to interrogation two, sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut. Trying in vain to control the tears in his eyes. Sorenson's verbal sucker punch had slammed him in the one vulnerable spot he had. It broke her heart to see what that cruel remark had reduced her man to. She wanted to kill Sorenson the next time she saw him. '_How can a man who handles kidnapping cases for a living do this to a father who had lost everything that had mattered in his life?' _she thought to herself.

She knelt down next to him and pulled his head into her chest, all the while making soothing comforting sounds. The memory of his daughter would always be a sensitive spot for him. She knew this. Just like the loss of her mother was hers. What her ex-boyfriend had done with that single callous statement had only solidified her resolve.

She loved this man, and she was never, ever going to speak to William Sorenson again.


	20. From the Shadows

**Chapter Nineteen  
****From the Shadows**

It was dawn in the small cemetery in the upper east side. A lone figure stood in the gathering light of day over the the small understated headstone of Alexis Marie Rodgers with a bouquet of long stemmed white roses. Richard Alexander Webb had been here only once before, on the day of her funeral. He had watched from the shadows wanting nothing more than to be be able to reveal himself and offer comfort to his estranged son. He knew at the time that he couldn't, it wouldn't have been right. He was certain that Martha had seen him, however, though she had given no outward sign of recognition. Her piercing blue eyes bored right through him though and they had lost none of their luster since the last time they had seen each other in 1968. He was every bit as smitten now, as he had been then.

It tugged at his heart that he had seen and spoken to Alexis only once in her brief life, and that was on the day she was born. That he had outlived his only granddaughter of only eight years filled him with great sadness. That his son had had to endure such gut wrenching sorrow tore at his own insides and made him hate his job, necessary as it had been for his country's security. Even Smith had gotten out back when Project Archangel had been broken up. He practically doted on his sister's children and grandchildren. Sent him photos every Christmas.

He hadn't come as often as he would have liked. As often as his conscience had told him he should. Mostly out of fear of running into Martha. He loved her every bit as much today as he had forty three years ago when they had met and had a torrid affair for nearly a month before he had been sent on assignment and disappeared from her life never to be seen again. He knew her angry reproach would simply kill him, so he stayed away, like she asked him to when he left.

Though he knew there was nothing he could do to help his son through this time, he did what he could. He had quietly helped him all of his life from the shadows. It wasn't much, really. Making sure the rent was paid on the apartment they lived in when he was a child. Getting him access to the CIA and arranging for him to spend time with an active female agent to help him with this books when he was a writer. Smoothing the way for his entrance into the FBI when his little girl died and his whole world fell apart, and he needed to build a new one. Placing challenges and opportunities in his path to keep him moving and help him find new meaning in his life.

Even had his son's investigation into the death of his mentor and friend not dovetailed with an investigation he was carrying out with the last vestiges he had managed to salvage of Project Archangel, he would still have helped him. Richard was his son, and as a father he felt he could do nothing less for him. When Richard had first begun to get involved with this Beckett woman, he had done a full background check on her, the likes of which only the CIA could manage. He had done so for every one of his girlfriends since he first kissed little Margie Peterson in the fifth grade. Including his ex-wife, Meredith. He may have been an absentee father, but he still felt the paternal urge to protect his son. Though with Meredith, he knew some lessons he would have to learn on his own.

When Beckett came up clean, he had seen how close her mother's murder case had dovetailed with his son's investigation, he realized just how dangerous a path he was on and had arranged some backup for him in the form of Sydney Bristow. She was one of the best field agents he had ever seen, and she had the perfect cover story, simply by virtue of the fact that it was her actual life.

With all that was going on, now was not the time to come in out of the cold. Someday he hoped that day would come, he only hoped that it didn't come too late. Until then he would protect his son as best he could. From all of the forces secretly arrayed against him, and from himself if need be. It was his duty as a father. The only duty he would ever place before his country. He would do it the only way he knew how.

From the shadows.


	21. Where Love Is

**Chapter Twenty**

**Where Love Is**

Richard Rodgers felt distinctly uncomfortable sitting at his and Kate's usual booth at Remy's. Though He and Kate had eaten here enough times between cases (not to mention during cases and after cases) that the wait staff knew him by name, how he liked his coffee (black, two sugars) how he liked his burger (medium well) and always knew to double his French fry order when he was with Kate, because she would eschew ordering fries herself to maintain her "girlish figure" and then content herself with snitching half of his. Half of the waitstaff enjoyed seeing the two of them, as they thought their romance was just dreamy, the other half wondered what the hell was taking them so long.

The major source of Rick's discomfort as he sat alone in his side of the booth was the man who occupied the seat across from him. Namely Jim Beckett, (Kate's _father_, he couldn't help reminding himself) Kate had cornered him in the kitchen of the loft (where she still occupied his guest room, all these months after her apartment had been destroyed, obviously in no great hurry to find a new apartment) and told him that her father had called her and said he wanted to meet this new man in her life. He could tell that this had her nearly beside herself in a fit of nerves.

This was how he found himself, alone in a booth at Remy's with Jim Beckett. Kate was far too freaked out by this meeting to be anywhere nearby, was in the loft waiting by her phone to hear how this meeting will go. Martha had practically adopted her, and showered her with affection, and she was concerned how her dad and the man she loved would get along. Rick was no less nervous about this meeting.

He hadn't done the "meet the parents" thing since he was in college, and that time had not exactly gone well. Kyra's mother took an instant dislike to him, and made that opinion quite plain all through dinner. Though neither he nor Kyra had known it at the time, the end of their relationship had been pretty much inevitable from that point on. He hadn't met Meredith's parents until the day of their wedding, and both of them had been blissfully drunk almost as soon as she walked up the aisle. The end of that marriage had been pretty much inevitable too, Meredith had never seemed to take their relationship seriously at the time. Now here he was, alone with Jim, having only just met him.

Jim seemed to share his discomfort at this first meeting, at least. Neither of them seemed to want to be the first to break the uneasy silence and start this conversation. Eventually Jim decided that since he had insisted, he should start things off.

"So...Rick...you're an FBI agent?"

"Yeah," Rick replied, "I worked primarily out of the Washington DC office, but I'm on indefinite loan to Homeland Security here in New York."

"Is it dangerous work?" Jim asked.

"I'm mostly just a liaison," Rick answered, "so I'm not really in any more danger than any other detective in the precinct."

"Katie tells me you're her partner."

"Yeah," Rick replied, a relaxed happy expression drifted across his features which did not go unnoticed by the older man across from him. "My day to day has relatively few requirements, so her captain paired me up with her to help her and her team with their homicide cases. I'm an experienced investigator, I could not, in good conscience simply sit back at my desk and do nothing."

"I see..." Jim replied, he was becoming more impressed with this man with every word that came out of his mouth.

Rick could tell that Kate's father was working up to something. It was plain that he had not felt the need to do something like this in a very long time. He remained quiet, and let him take his time.

"I guess, Rick, what I am trying to ask you is something of a more...personal nature."

"I imagine so. Please, feel free to ask me anything, I know how awkward this must be for you."

"Thank you, Rick. I guess what I've been working up to is the old parental stand by."

Jim Beckett paused for a moment, before lifting his face to lock eyes with Richard Rodgers.

"What are your intentions with my daughter?"

Rick had expected a question along these lines, but it still caught him rather flat footed.

"Is there ever a time when that question isn't awkward?" Rick asked.

"Not in my experience." Jim replied, a sheepish grin on his face.

Rick looked down at his hands on the table, discomfort was slipping into sadness for a moment. When he looked up, Jim could see a sadness he prayed he would never have to know, the loss of a child.

"I assume Kate has told you what she knows about my past?" Rick asked, and in a much softer tone, "About my daughter?"

Rick dug the same photo he had shown Kate nearly a year ago out of his wallet, and showed it to him. He nodded solemnly and returned it. Jim could see the anguish in Rick's blue eyes, an ache he himself carried since losing Johanna, a secret pain he knows all too well never goes away. Katie told him what she had seen that day in the cemetery a year ago in January. The conversation they had had in the precinct's pistol range after that first disastrous case together. Her revelation that he had once been Richard Castle, the writer who's books had saved her soul when he had been busy losing himself in the bottom of a bottle.

"Yes, Rick, she did." Jim replied, "I can't even imagine what losing a child so young must have done to you. I can't even bear to contemplate the thought of losing Katie as an _adult_, especially after Johanna died. I barely slept a wink her first year as a uniform."

"Mr. Beckett..." Rick began.

"Please, call me Jim."

"Okay...Jim..." It was clear to Kate's father that this subject was difficult for him to put into words.

"When Alexis...when she died...it felt like the best parts of me died with her. It was like all of the warmth, light and joy was taken from my life. It left me an emotional cripple for years. I couldn't write, I simply could no longer find the words, so I joined the FBI and resigned myself to spend the remainder of my life with an empty space in my soul I would never be able to fill."

Rick paused for a moment, to gather himself and wipe a single shed tear from his eye.

"Then I met Kate. I can't explain it, other than to say that our broken places...fit together somehow. I don't know when it happened. It had to be somewhere between the Regent kidnapping case and last summer in Malibu, but I have found that I can no longer envision my life without her in it. When I saw her apartment explode, and I thought she might be gone, it nearly killed me. That was when I knew."

"After I lost Alexis, I never thought I would be able to love anything or anyone ever again, but I am in love with your daughter, Jim. It's like she opened the darkened windows of my soul and let the sun back in."

Jim reached out his hand and patted Rick's arm. He knew it had taken a lot of effort to put into words something so difficult to quantify.

"Rick, I don't know if you've seen it, but you have had such a wonderful impact on my Katie. She has truly come alive in a way I hadn't seen in her in years. Since the two of you found each other, she's found a measure of...serenity she hasn't known since the day her mother died.

The two of you are obviously good for each other, I hope you can continue to find your way together, and you both can find some measure of happiness together, you certainly have my blessing.

….

Kate's cell phone pinged, letting he know that she had text message from Rick. When she read it she nearly burst into tears.

_**Your father sends his regards...and his blessing. Love you, Rick.**_


	22. Close Calls and Knights Errant

**Chapter Twenty One  
****Close Calls and Knights Errant**

Early May 2010

Kate and Rick had been chasing their subject, Reginald Jacobs, a serial rapist who had recently graduated to killing his victims after doing a stint in Ossining (who obviously didn't want to go back to jail, and was a pretty fast runner) for three blocks. How Kate could not only keep pace with the man, but also pull ahead of _him_ as well with his longer stride wearing those ridiculously high heeled boots was still nothing short of amazing to Rick. One of the many things he thought was astounding about this extraordinary woman he was absolutely smitten with.

Work had kept them both incredibly busy lately and they had only officially gone out twice in the months since he had confessed his love for her to her father at Remy's. (and one of those had been interrupted by a body drop) They held hands and kissed often when they thought nobody was looking and had spent many a lunch or late dinner in "their" booth at Remy's though. It was almost like they were teenagers again. He even got a secret kick out of the fact that she liked to steal his fries. Neither of them were ready for more...yet, but when the time came he was sure they would be incredible together.

His pleasant moment of introspection was dashed as he neared the corner they had disappeared around. He heard Kate's painful cry just before he rounded the corner, to see her doubled over from a blow to the stomach then slammed brutally into the wall of the alley. As she slid slowly down the wall, still clutching her right wrist, with a gash on her forehead, he could see the man turning away searching for her gun.

He never got the chance to reach it, however as Rick came charging down the alley and slammed bodily into him, body checking him into the opposite wall. When he bounced back and came on again, Rick stepped into and around the punch he threw, grabbing his wrist, twisting slightly then bodily swung him back into the wall again. His only thought to keep him away from Kate, still only half conscious where she had fallen.

This time as the suspect came on again, he was met with a spinning low kick to his midsection, which doubled him over followed by a knee to his forehead as Rick spun around again. A vicious elbow smash to the back of his head effectively ended the man's resistance. As he dropped heavily to the pavement, Rick was reaching for his cuffs. He cuffed the man tightly then added a zip tie to his ankles for good measure. He had already proven his penchant for violence, and he wasn't taking any chances.

Rick heard a low moan from Kate, still sitting on the ground, propped up by the wall of the alley, and his heart sunk. She looked only partially conscious and was fading out fast. Concerned about a concussion, he shook her slightly by the shoulders. She looked up at him weakly, almost in tears.

"Keep your eyes open Kate!" he said in a panic, concerned about a concussion "I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"

Kate nodded weakly, "Mmkay...Rick...mtired...did we get him?"

"Yeah Kate, we got him."

"Arm hurts...mmsotired" she replied

"I know Kate, I know but I need you stay awake till we can get you checked out, okay?"

"Mmmkay...try...love you..."

Rick reached down and plucked the police radio from her belt. It took everything he had to keep the fear and anxiety out of his voice.

"One Lincoln forty, one Lincoln forty...officer down, Fifty-second and Broadway, I need a bus and a squad car...repeat officer down."

While he was on the radio, he didn't see Kate's eyes slip closed as her head slumped forward.

….

Detectives Ryan and Esposito had been the first officers on the scene, as they had already been responding to Kate's request for backup when their suspect had fled. They were quickly followed by Detective Bristow and Officer Hastings, her unofficial partner. When they saw Kate being loaded onto the ambulance, their guard went up. As they approached Agent Rodgers, they noted the pale, blank look on his face, he was just as worried as they were. He indicated their suspect bound hand and foot on the pavement with a look of contempt and barely restrained rage as he climbed into the ambulance and the doors were closed.

"Bristow, follow the ambulance, stay with Rodgers when you get there and call the Captain. Hastings, take charge of the scene, when the watch commander arrives go get Beckett's ride. We'll see this dirt-bag off to holding, get him processed and meet you guys there. Call Beckett's dad too."

Sydney nodded at Esposito and Hastings as she headed back to her car. If Beckett died, or was seriously injured she knew she would have the devil's own time keeping Rodgers away from holding.

Esposito and Ryan each took one side of the now conscious suspect, picked him up and none too gently shoved him into the back seat of their Crown Victoria. They had thought about stopping to tune him up, but they were professionals and only let that angry thought sit idle for a second or two, besides, from the looks of him, Rodgers had already put him down pretty hard.

Considering Beckett needed an ambulance, they were actually rather surprised he was still breathing.

….

Richard Rodgers was pacing back and forth in the waiting room of Mercy Hospital. He had been here for nearly an hour with no word, other than the one piece of good news he had received on the ambulance, that Kate didn't have a concussion. Detective Bristow had followed him inside, her cell phone in her hand, calling Captain Montgomery at home.

The one consistent trait that had seemed to survive from his writing days would of course be his penchant for the worst case scenario. In the absence of cold hard facts his mind seemed to be running full tilt through such scenarios. Concussion, internal injuries, shock, all spent time in his worst imaginings. He was holding himself together by a thread. Jim Beckett's presence in the waiting room did nothing to ease his fears, or assuage his guilt. He'd let his partner go into this situation alone, hadn't kept up, been too busy daydreaming. This was all his fault, yet Kate's father spent nearly as much time comforting him as he did worrying about his daughter. Rick secretly wished the older man would just get angry, lash out, blame him like he blamed himself. He didn't deserve this, didn't deserve comfort. He couldn't accept it. Not until he knew she would be okay.

When a doctor finally entered the waiting room, Rick rounded on him like he would a suspect in interrogation. He cloaked himself in the facade of _Special Agent Richard Rodgers, FBI_ and everyone in the room (Lanie, Espo, Ryan, Bristow, Hastings, Jim Beckett and Montgomery) noted the change. His back straightened, his eyes locked on the doctor with an intensity most of them hadn't seen since the Regent kidnapping. As he walked up to the tall, dark haired man, told him his name and flashed his credentials.

"How is she doing, Doctor?" he asked in a voice totally devoid of emotion, as he simply couldn't trust any of his at the moment.

He had to hold it together. He couldn't allow himself to lose it...if he let that downward spiral start, he knew he would never be able to stop it this time. He just couldn't deal with that kind of pain again.

"Detective Beckett is a very tough woman, Agent Rodgers, she has a hairline fracture of the radius which we've splinted, multiple contusions on her back where she struck the alley wall, a twisted ankle, and a bruise on her abdomen. What we were the most worried about was the blow to her head and the coinciding laceration, but after taking X-rays we found it was mostly superficial."

Rick let out a sigh of relief. All of the anxiety went out of him and he finally began to relax, to allow himself to feel again. At this moment, Jim Beckett stepped forward and took over.

"I'm Jim Beckett, Kate's father, Is she allowed to have visitors?"

"Of course, Mr Beckett. We've admitted her overnight for observation. She's been given a local anesthesia and some ibuprofen for the pain, but she is in good condition. Nurse Matthews can show you to her room"

Rick finally managed to find his voice, and took the doctor's hand, his card inside of it.

"Doc, all of my personal numbers are on here, if she needs anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to call me, night or day."

"Of course, Agent Rodgers." The doctor replied, and for the first time Rick saw his name on the ID.

"Thank you for taking care of her, Doctor Davidson, you have no idea how grateful I am."

….

Rick Rodgers and Jim Beckett paused at the door to Kate's hospital room and looked at each other. Their discussion about who should go in first clearly had not been finished.

"Jim, she's your daughter. You should go see her first...I insist."

"As her father I have to put her needs first, Rick, and what she needs right now is you. I can see the guilt radiating off of you in waves, I can tell you need to see her almost as much as I'm certain she needs you."

"But, Jim..."

At this point, Jim decides to take unilateral action, pushes open the door shoves him inside and closes it again, then rolls his eyes.

"Young people." he muttered to himself and walked off in search of coffee, secure in the knowledge that his daughter is safe in the arms of the very well armed man who loves her.

Rick was mildly shocked at Jim Beckett's bold decisive move, not expecting it from the reserved, soft-spoken man. Surprised enough that he made no move to stop him as he pulled the door closed. He didn't turn around until a small soft voice called out to him.

"Rick..is that you?"

All other thoughts immediately subsided, as he turned and walked purposely to her bedside. He paled as he looked at her. They had closed up the wound on her forehead with butterfly strips so as not to leave a scar so he could clearly see the bruise on her temple where the man had struck her, then his eyes fell to the splint on her right forearm. He took her left hand in both of his and dropped heavily into the chair at her bedside.

"I'm so sorry Kate...I'm so sorry...if I'd been faster...if I'd been paying closer attention...I..."

"No...Rick...no...shh...this wasn't your fault...okay?" Kate interrupted, bringing her splinted right arm to ghost her fingers across his face, brushing the single tear away, "He had a lot more fight in him than either of us imagined. If I'd been alone...if you hadn't been there...been right behind me...my...knight in shining armor...he might have...might have..."

She shuddered at the thought that Jacobs would have raped her, but never got to voice it as Rick pressed his lips to hers and stole that terrifying thought away with an outpouring of love the likes of which he thought he'd never be capable of again. When he pulled away from her, she looked up at him, the love in her eyes shining brightly for him to see. His shining right back at her as well as he leaned in and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Thank you, Rick...for being there."

"Always."


	23. Home Is Where The Heart Is

**Chapter Twenty Two  
****Home Is Where the Heart Is**

Richard Rodgers was jolted awake where he had drifted off in the chair next to Kate's hospital bed. His head snapped up stiffly to see Kate tossing and turning in her sleep and he realized what had roused him, she had pulled her hand roughly out from under his.

"No...stop...don't..." slipped from her mouth in a low moan.

Rick was fully alert now, as he took Kate's left hand once more, engulfing it in his larger one, as he ran his other hand through her hair.

"Shh, Kate, shh...it's okay...you're safe...I'm right here."

Suddenly Kate snapped to a full upright position, a silent scream on her lips, her eyes open wide with an unseen terror before she burst into tears. Rick pulled her into him, wrapping his arms tightly around her, running his hands up and down her back and combing his fingers through her shoulder length auburn hair. She clung to him like a drowning woman, not even trying to hide her tears.

"I was...in the alley...and he...and he...he was..." but she trailed off, not able to bring herself to even say the words.

"Shh...it's all right...I'm here, and he's in a cage where scum like him belongs. You're safe...it didn't happen, and I won't let him anywhere near you. I'd kill him first...with my bare hands if I have to."

"I don't want to be alone...please...stay with me." she pleaded quietly into his ear.

"Of course...I'll stay as long as you need. I'll be right here."

"Thank you." She whispered, as Rick felt her breathing even out as she slipped back into sleep and he gently laid her back onto her pillow, planted a soft kiss on her forehead and resumed his vigil at her side. As he held her hand, rubbing gentle circles into her palm with his thumb.

Rick had seen this coming since they spoke earlier, before her father had come in and her walls went up, as she locked her fears behind the impenetrable barrier that was Kate Beckett so her father couldn't see them. Ever mindful of his battle with alcohol, afraid that her fears might cause him to relapse.

He knew her subconscious was merely processing the worst case scenario in her dreams, because she tried to hard to bottle them up in her waking state. He felt responsible because he had distracted her from discussing it earlier, and then her father had come in and she would never discuss such things in front of him. She had succumbed to sleep shortly thereafter. He knew she would likely have to see the department therapist before being allowed back on duty.

He had had nightmares for _months_ after Alexis died, as his subconscious mind twisted through every single conceivable scenario, including one where she had been kidnapped by some nefarious evildoer and replaced with a doppelganger, and another where she had joined a legion of the undead. Only after he finished writing the last book and sent it to Gina, did the dreams stop and he found that he could no longer summon the words. He had tried to write once or twice over the years, but it was like that part of himself had been walled off forever, and even he couldn't get inside.

He knew instinctively that she would need him when the nightmares came, so he had stayed. Like his mother had done for him back then. How she had found the strength to put aside her own grief to take care of him those first few devastated weeks back in 2002 he would never understand. He knew from experience that the dreams would fade eventually. The best he could do for her make sure she knew she was not alone, help keep her grounded. He would stay with her as long as she needed, be whatever she needed until she was okay again.

….

She slept peacefully the rest of the night. He had left her side only once the following day, to go back to the loft and pick her up a change of clothing and a pair of her ballet flats. With her sprained ankle he knew she wouldn't be able to manage her heels. He made a stop at the precinct to check on the prisoner, and unsurprisingly was not allowed to be alone in holding with him. The man had cringed at the sight of him, regardless. _"Good."_ he thought to himself, he wanted the man to know fear. The dark, predatory look in his eye told the cowardly little shit what awaited him if he walked, a verbal threat was unnecessary.

He wanted to strangle the man with his bare hands, watch his eyes pop before the light drained out of them for what he had done to Kate, what he was even now putting her through. It was probably best that Espo was there to keep an eye on him. He couldn't trust himself.

"Don't worry bro, we got this guy. He isn't going anywhere, the DA is filing the charges and convening a grand jury as we speak, he'll be on his way to the tombs by morning."

"He isn't fighting the charges?"

"Nope, signed a full confession, with the evidence you and Beckett uncovered, he'll be serving hard time, considering he assaulted an officer, Judge Markaway will throw the book at him."

"_Good, let the bastard rot."_ Rick thought, with three murders tied to him, and on his third strike no less, he'd be doing life upstate this time. He intended to appear at every one of his parole hearings, provided he got the chance for any.

"You let us worry about him, just take care of our girl, okay?" Espo replied.

"Done." Rick replied, as he and Espo bumped fists.

….

Though Kate had been unsure about making the long drive out to the Hamptons, she changed her mind when she saw the Castle vacation house for the first time. It was an example of the simple extravagance of the man who had once been Richard Castle. Not that she wasn't completely in love with the man he had become, but it was what he had once been that had truly drawn her in.

When Rick opened the passenger door to help her out of the Mercedes, he noted the look of absolute childlike wonder on her face as she swung her long legs out of the car and unfolded the walking cane that the doctors had insisted she use until her badly sprained ankle healed. She seemed much smaller as she rose unsteadily to her full height, as her ankle also necessitated the use of sneakers instead of her usual four inch heels.

When he had first broached the subject of taking Kate to the vacation house in the Hamptons, his mother thought it was a wonderful idea, and had spent the last three days making the house presentable after nearly six years sitting vacant. He hadn't set foot in the house since he had hidden away there for nearly a year to write Storm Fall. She had enlisted the help of her acting school students, many of whom had scenery construction experience and they had done an incredible job of opening the house back up.

"Young Chief Brady" as Martha had taken to calling him, had poked his head in briefly early on, but as she had explained later over the phone, she had him wrapped around her neatly manicured little finger within twenty minutes. Her students had done a masterful job of converting Alexis' rainy day playroom on the first floor (near Rick's master bedroom) into a guest room for Kate, even bringing down all of the furnishings from one of the upstairs guest rooms so she would be comfortable and wouldn't have to navigate the stairs.

Rick was impressed that his mother had accomplished so much in such a short time. Lately she had been impressing him greatly with her generosity and level headed reserve, a side he had never seen in her before, but as he looked back on the past decade, realized had been there all along. Patiently waiting for a chance to make things better.

Rick felt blessed to have two such amazingly extraordinary women in his life. One of whom he was long overdue acknowledging. For the first time since he was five years old, he was amazed by the awesome gorgeous creature that was simply "mom."


	24. Tender Loving Care

**Chapter Twenty Three  
****Tender Loving Care**

The month in the Hamptons vacation home became something of a replay of the time they had spent in the beach house in Malibu. Here, far away from the prying eyes of the city and the precinct and the FBI they didn't need to be "Agent Rodgers" and "Detective Beckett." They could simply be Rick and Kate. It was what Kate desperately needed as her bones mended and her psyche began to heal. Though they went out to eat a few times what really seemed to make her feel better were the nights they either ordered in, or cooked a meal and ate together. It seemed so mundane, so domestic, it allowed her to nearly forget about her job, about the incident in that alley. The idyllic scenery certainly helped.

They only made two trips back to the city the entire month. The first had been her appointment with the NYPD's resident therapist, named Dr. Burke, who had actually helped her make sense of the terrifying nightmares of Jacobs raping her, something which never happened. He was encouraged that she had a support system, that Rick was there to keep her grounded, that she wasn't isolating herself.

Within a couple nights of her visit with Dr. Burke, the dreams of Jacobs on top of her faded, as reality once again imposed itself over her fears, which he helped her see, likely stemmed from her lack of control of the situation after she had been incapacitated.

The second trip to the city was for Reginald Jacob's arraignment on three counts of second degree murder. As expected, he plead guilty to avoid first degree murder charges and a needle. Also, as expected on the charge of assault with a deadly weapon and assauting a police officer, Judge Markaway had thrown the book at him. As Jacobs was being led away in manacles, his eye landed on Kate, and he seemed to stare right through her as he licked his lips and his eyes roved up and down her body causing Kate to pale visibly. The man deflated and cowered when he caught sight of Rick, but the damage had been done. Kate had never been so completely unnerved by a suspect before, but the look in Jacobs eye as he stared at her made her skin crawl.

….

It was about 3:30 in the morning, back at the vacation house when Rick woke to the sound of running water in the ensuite bathroom between his room and Beckett's. When he got up to investigate, he found Kate sitting in the shower, naked and shivering, her back to the cold wall tiles, knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. She had obviously been here a while as the water was ice cold, her lips turning purple.

Rick pulled open the linen closet and pulled out the largest bath towel he could find then turned off the water and wrapped her up in the towel. The fact that she was completely naked barely registered in his mind as he did his best to dry her off before he picked her up and carried her back to her room and set her on her bed as he dialed up the heat in the room.

"H-h-had the d-d-dream ag-again.." she muttered through chattering teeth.

Rick couldn't be certain if it was her shivering in the cold or her sobbing that hitched her breath more.

"Th-this t-t-time he..._shot_...you...and he...and he...he m-m-made you...watch." she choked out as she completely broke down.

Rick's heart shattered into a million pieces to see the strong, defiant extraordinary woman he loved reduced to this after being beaten in an alley. Grief mixed with rage in his heart as he once again imagined choking the life out of that man. Being nice and slow and careful about it. At least he was being moved upstate in the morning, Auburn Correctional facility if he recalled correctly. His lawyer had insisted on a prison as far away from the city as possible after seeing the dark look on Rick's face and implied threat in his posture after the arraignment and the plea deal was laid out. He was glad that Kate wouldn't be put through the agony of a trial.

He forced those thoughts out of his mind, however, as he helped her put on a pair of yoga pants a t-shirt and a warm fleece sweater, her lips were still a little purple and she was still shivering slightly, but the color was beginning to return to her cheeks.

"Rick...please...don't leave...I...don't want to be alone.."

He could tell how hard it was for her to admit that to him, how badly she wanted to face down this demon herself. Her father had told him how she refused a night light as a child, even though she was deathly afraid of the dark so she could stare down her fear. She knew she needed help this time, no matter how badly her pride wanted wanted her to believe otherwise, and she needed him. He would never, ever refuse her. He took her hand and led her out of the room.

"Come on, mine is much bigger."

Rick helped he into bed and tucked her in before adding another pice of wood to the fire in the fireplace and sliding in on his side. He had intended to give her more space, he didn't want to crowd her, he knew that anything remotely sexual would be a mistake, and they would both regret it later.

She however snuggled right into him, seeking the warmth and security of his presence. The metronome of his heartbeat, the feel of his breath on her neck. She needed this, she felt safe and warm here. Rick wrapped his arms around her and gave her exactly what she needed, he really could refuse her nothing.

Slowly but surely he felt her shivering stop, and the shakiness of her breathing even out as she slowly fell asleep. Just before she slipped al the way under, he heard her whisper.

"I love you..."

"I know." he whispered back and kissed her temple before he to slipped away into a deep, untroubled sleep.

* * *

_**I know I know I couldn't resist the Empire Strikes Back reference. Shoot me. Don't worry things will get better for Beckett soon. I promise...well until they get worse...You all know what's coming in season three...  
**_


	25. Equilibrium

**Chapter Twenty Four  
****Equilibrium**

The day that Kate returned to the precinct at the end of May was a low key affair. There was of course the usual amount of applauding and pats on the back for a fellow cop who had been wounded on the job and was now returning to duty. albeit in her case restricted duty until she was medically cleared and re-certified with her weapon.

She had been nervous all morning about what to wear, and had settled on a dark blue button down shirt, a pair of high waisted black slacks and a matching blazer (which had the added benefit of hiding the ace bandage on her right wrist) with a much lower set of heels than she was used to wearing as her ankle was still a little tender. Captain Montgomery had made a show of returning her badge to her and reminding her she needed to re-qualify to get her service weapon back. When she slid the gold shield onto her belt she almost felt whole again, like a part of her had been missing and she had finally gotten it back.

She hadn't been prepared for how skittish she would be with all of these people around, even though they were nearly all cops, most of whom she had known either personally or professionally for years. The occasional loud noise made her jump and she found her hand moving back where she usually kept her pistol. Rick, God bless that man, noticed her apprehension right away and whispered to Montgomery who deftly sent everyone back to work. The precinct almost immediately returned to its usual routine.

When Kate settled into her chair, she noticed the stack of get well cards that had accumulated there in her absence along with the addition of several small elephant figurines that complimented the one that usually graces her desk. One for every week she had been away. She looked across the squad room at Ryan and Espo, her boys, and knew that the thin blue line had closed its ranks. It warmed her heart to know that she worked with such people. She sniffed twice and pulled a small makeup mirror out of her bag to make sure her mascara hadn't run.

Rick had taken such good care off her during her sick leave. Allowing her the space to come to terms with the emotional issues raised by her experience in that alley, but not allowing her to fall too far down the rabbit hole of despair. She had almost forgotten until now how much she had missed being here every day.

It was in that moment that she noticed Rick was missing.

….

**5:30 PM**

Martha was waiting in the kitchen of her son's loft for Kate, having let herself in with the key Rick had given her years ago. She had been here earlier in the week when they first came back from the vacation house in the Hamptons to make sure the house was tidied up, and that the refrigerator was stocked with fresh groceries. She had busied herself preparing a simple meal for the two of them to share while they waited for him to get home.

She had noticed the afternoon when they first arrived back at he loft, the almost blissful expression on Richard's face when they walked in the door, his hand at the small of her back. Kate looked much better than she had when they had left four weeks before, she appeared to be much more relaxed and at peace with herself. As his mother, she had noted the change in her son's demeanor almost immediately. The difference between his posture now, and the closed off, emotionally stunted caricature of himself he had been for the last eight years was like night and day.

She knew he might not realize it, (he would be absolutely mortified if anyone told him) but caring for another human being as he had been for Kate Beckett was exactly what he had needed to heal his own tortured psyche. The perfect balm for his soul to help him crawl out from under the specter of his dead child and begin to live again.

It had brought tears to Martha's eyes to see her son once more come alive after so long drowning in a sea of guilt and remorse. He was more subdued now, to be sure, no longer the man-child that he once was, but she was willing to accept that as the trade off to see him truly embracing life again.

She had been asked to be here when Kate arrived back at the loft, as Rick had been taken in for questioning to the FBI's New York City field office. It would seem that the terrible man who had raped and murdered those three women and had attacked Kate when they tried to arrest him had been stabbed to death in his cell last night and Richard's possible involvement was suspected and had to be ruled out.

Martha Rodgers knew one thing perfectly well. If her son had wanted to kill that evil, deluded man, he would not have sent a proxy. He would have driven to Auburn, NY and done the deed himself. She had seen it in his eyes the one time he had spoken to her about the incident. She also knew that Kate would be beside herself with guilt and worry when she found out.

When she heard a key turning in the lock on the front door, Martha emerged from the kitchen to greet Kate as she entered the loft with Detective Ryan close behind her. She saw the subtle hand of her son at work, making arrangements so Kate would not be alone, without crowding her or hurting her pride. He was still the good man she had raised, his generous nature still shining through in the smallest of gestures. Even as the FBI was treating him like a criminal.

….

**Richard Webb's office  
Langley Virginia**

Richard Webb sat back in his comfortable office chair reading the report that had been handed to him as he examined his handiwork. Reginald Jacobs had had the great "random" misfortune to end up with the father of one of his victims as a cell mate.

"What a shame." Webb muttered out loud to himself.

He had kept human and signals surveillance on his son, and Martha while he arranged for this "introduction to karma" so that all of the phone calls had taken place when their phones had either been turned off, or inactive. One of his old "Project Archangel" assets in Albany had made the four hour drive to Auburn Correctional Facility to visit the man in prison and let him know that the man who had raped and murdered his daughter would soon be sharing a cell with him. When he was looked up in the visitation records later, they would find that the rather short, nondescript man quite simply didn't exist.

The prisoner in question, who likely hadn't seen his daughter since she was a little girl, was a lifer. A man resigned to the fact that he would never again breathe free air. To be able to get his hands (and a very carefully crafted homemade shiv) on the man who had killed his daughter was like a gift from the universe. He would likely spend the rest of his life in the ADSEG wing, but the deed had been done.

"Ain't karma a bitch." Webb mused to himself as he shredded the report and burned the confetti to ashes in his fireplace. He would see to it that the man was made as comfortable as his station allowed. He was not the type to simply use people for his own ends and throw them away.

This would never, _ever_ track back to his son. He knew the FBI would still consider him a potential suspect and bring him in for questioning as procedure demanded, but that would be the end of it. Webb had run more than one "dirty tricks" operation under the very nose of the FBI and he knew well how to cover all of his bases. His nickname from his Navy Seal days "Nemesis" was very well chosen.

He went home that night and slept like a baby. Secure in the knowledge that he had done what he could to take care of his son, the only way he knew how.


	26. Dreams and Other Distractions

*Note to my readers* please re-read the previous chapter, I revised a couple passages and added a line or to to help this chapter make a bit more sense.

Thank you.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Five  
Dreams and Other Distractions**

The Rodgers Loft  
10:30 PM

Though Kate had been more than happy to have Martha keep her company, inside she was a nervous wreck. Rick had, for all intents and purposes disappeared from the precinct earlier today and no one had heard from him since. Not until she had arrived at the loft, did she find out that he had basically been taken in for questioning at the FBI's New York Field office as if he were a common criminal. By the pained expression on Martha's face this had been every bit as much a surprise to her as well.

She had asked Captain Montgomery where he had gone as soon as she realized he was gone, but he had demurred. Told her he wasn't in the loop, but something in his eyes told her he was holding something back. She got the same vibe from Ryan and Espo in the squad room. They were keeping something from her about Rick's sudden abrupt departure.

Her anxiety truly kicked into overdrive at five o' clock when Rick had still not returned to take her home, and the Captain had Ryan take her instead. Ryan's guilty silence the entire drive back to the loft, the melancholy slump to his shoulders and refusal to look her in the eye confirmed to her that something was definitely amiss and that Rick was at the heart of it. They knew something was up, but they just didn't have the heart to tell her.

Martha was being really sweet, but there was a similar look in her eyes every time she too looked at the clock. She was worried about her son every bit as much as she was. She was like a coiled spring, she could see the tension in her stance even as she smiled sweetly and patted her arm after dinner and told her everything would be fine.

When she finally heard the sound of keys turning in the lock of the front door, Kate practically leaped from the couch. When the door swung open she pounced on him before he could even clear the doorway nearly bowling him over in her relief to see him, hugging him fiercely around the waist. It actually scared her sometimes how much she needed him. As she pulled back a little bit, almost embarrassed by her obvious show of desperation, he bent over and touched his forehead to hers as her fingers twisted into his shirt.

"You disappeared from the precinct...I...I was worried worried sick...and nobody would tell me anything!" she choked out, her eyes misting over. Rick ran his fingers through her hair then down her back in a soothing manner before replying.

"I'm so sorry, Kate, after I called mother, they took my cell phone."

Kate stiffened in shock. Pulled back to look at him, worry and fear for him at war with each other across her face.

"What?" she breathed in indignation, "Why would they do that Rick?"

"Reginald Jacobs was murdered last night, stabbed to death by his cell mate in Auburn Correctional Facility."

Kate shivered involuntarily at the mention of his name, the cold predatory look on the man's face in the courtroom as his eyes wandered up and down her body ran unbidden through her mind. Even now the thought of it made her skin crawl.

"Good." she muttered coldly.

Something in Rick's demeanor, however stopped her short as she truly took in his disheveled appearance. His shirt was rumpled, his tie pulled askew, his hair was a mess. He looked haggard and his expression was hollowed out, though he was trying valiantly to hide it.

"Why would they want to question you about his murder?" she asked quietly, the realization finally dawning on her, "You couldn't have..."

"Kate..." Rick interrupted her train of thought with a finger on her lips,

"His murder came too quickly after he was transferred there, The man who attacked him was related to victim number 4...her father...I think. I was considered a suspect, they thought I might have arranged it somehow."

"What?" Kate nearly shrieked with indignation, "But you were with me all this time, how could you have arranged his murder?" A panicked look flashed in her eyes, like she was afraid he would be taken away from her again.

"I was cleared half an hour ago after they checked my phone records and my internet logs." Rick explained as he ran his hands soothingly up and down her back.

"Oh thank God..." Kate breathed, on the verge of tears as she crushed herself into his chest, listening to his heartbeat, her fingers twisting in his tie and his shirt.

"Shh, Kate it's ok." he whispered into her hair, "He's gone forever and I'm not going anywhere. They had to eliminate me as a potential suspect after what he did to you. You know the procedure every bit as much as I do."

Before anything more could be said, Martha breezed past them while putting on her coat, applying a light kiss to first Kate's cheek then Rick's.

"On that note, I think it's time I make myself scarce, I have many young actors to mold in the morning!" She said as she stepped around them to make her exit. She paused for a moment and turned back to face them.

"I made Chicken Marsala for dinner, Richard, there should be plenty of leftovers in the refrigerator. Enough for both of you, Since Kate barely touched her plate earlier. You really should make sure she eats something kiddo. Until tomorrow, dear ones!"

With a jaunty wave and the brightest of smiles for both of them, Martha pulled the door closed behind her. Her own breathy exhale of relief at her son's exoneration went unheard in the hall. It had been the bravura performance of a lifetime she thought to herself as her composure finally fell apart. Her own quiet sobs reverberated in the elevator as she finally released the pent up emotions she had bottled up to comfort the woman her son loved more than life itself.

….

**One hour later**

As Kate put away the dishes from their impromptu late dinner, she could see in Ricks eyes just how thoroughly exhausted he really was. Obviously Rick's interrogation had been much more aggressive than he let on, and it was beginning to tell on him. He had taken such good care of her since she got out of the hospital. She felt that now it was time to try to take care of him.

"Rick, please," Kate admonished him quietly, "you look completely beat, go take a shower and get some rest. I'll take care of the dishes."

"You sure?" Rick asked, "I can stay and help, I'm...I'll be fine."

"Rick...please...don't worry about me, get some rest. I've got this."

Rick looked into her green flecked brown eyes and saw absolute sincerity shining in them. To see the quiet strength that had first attracted him to her coming back warmed his heart. He couldn't argue with such sincerity. He kissed her warmly on top of her head, and started to head toward his bedroom when she hooked a finger in his belt loop, pulling him back into her as she got up on her toes and gave him a much more satisfying kiss on his mouth before he ambled off to bed.

About half an hour later, after she had finished the dishes and put them away she came to the decision that she would sleep in her own bed tonight. She couldn't bear the thought of waking him after the day from hell he had likely been out through, as she climbed the stairs to the her room. _'I can get through a single night on my own'_ She thought to herself as she climbed into bed, turned out the light and soon was fast asleep.

….

**two hours later**

Kate Beckett snapped awake, her heart pounding in her chest, soaked in sweat, absolute panic in her eyes. This nightmare had been different, the product of an altogether different sort of terror. Rick had saved her from Jacobs, only to be taken from her, ripped from her side and killed...just like her mother. In her panicked state she was halfway down the stairs before she even realized where she was going.

This time her fear is not merely for herself...but for him.

She found herself standing at the foot of his bed, staring down at his sleeping form, Content to see the peaceful relaxed expression on his face. She stood there for several minutes studying his features without the walls he puts up in public. Walls not unlike her own. She mentally chastises herself for her weakness, her man had spent the better part of a day effectively being accused of a murder he didn't commit. Having to suffer his honor, his integrity being called into question and she can't even sleep through the night by herself.

_'How much _more_ pathetic can I possibly be'_ she thought to herself.

She turned on her heel to go back upstairs when she heard a quiet voice behind her.

"Kate...?"

She stopped, suddenly rooted to the spot, guilt welling in her heart for having disrupted his much needed rest. She turned back around, to see him still curled up in bed, as he sleepily pulled the comforter aside and patted the spot next to him.

"Not wanting to be alone is not a weakness, Kate." He said sleepily, his voice little more than a stage whisper.

She pauses only for a moment wondering how even half asleep he could somehow read her mind as first her guilt and then her stubborn pride are overridden by her love for this man and her desire for a peaceful night's sleep wrapped in his warm embrace. The simple need to know that he is alive and here and that she isn't alone after all washes over her as she relents, climbs into bed and pulls up the comforters around her, snuggling back into him as he wraps his arms around her and slips back into sleep.

The gut wrenching fear from that nightmare...seeing his broken body bleeding to death on the ground professing his love for her with his dying breath had shaken her to her core. The only balm for that ache was this. Every synapse in her being urged her to run instead, to flee from this need, but she didn't. She couldn't. If she ran, and something were to happen to him, she would never forgive herself.

Her anxieties and fears slowly receded as she gradually succumbed to the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat at her back and his warm steady breathing on her shoulder. She could face down anything, fight any foe survive any deprivation as long as she had this man at her back. He was right, he had been all long. She didn't have to do this alone. Slowly she began to relax, the last vestiges of that nightmare slipping away with her fear and anxiety as she slid quietly into peaceful, dreamless sleep.

….

**12th Precinct Squad Room**  
**The following afternoon**

Detective Sydney Bristow sat at her desk wishing she could have been anywhere else today. She had not been here long enough to feel comfortable asking for a personal day, especially with Beckett on the disabled list. She had lost the love her life two years ago on this very day, could still remember with absolute clarity the moment she received the notice that he was gone. It had been devoid of any actual details on the cause and nature of his death, or anything about what he had been doing prior to his violent death.

Having worked for the Company herself she really hadn't expected any. Her past affiliation with them was the only reason she had gotten what little notice she received. She hoped he hadn't suffered, but given her experience she figured that was unlikely. The pain of his loss simply washed over her most of the day, as she sat there quietly filling out paperwork from her latest case. Thankfully, it had been an open shut territorial squabble between two neighbors that had turned deadly, not a case the boys would have called "Beckett flavored." She really hadn't wanted to think today, she just wanted to be left alone to grieve for Michael in peace.

Though Ryan and Espo, God bless them, seemed to have caught on, an annoying idiot from Robbery division just would not leave her to her thoughts. He had been hitting on her ceaselessly since they had had an impromptu sparring session yesterday afternoon in the exercise room. Had she known he was going to be such a pain in her ass, she would have kicked his ass a little harder, maybe hurt his pride a little.

He had rounded the corner from the elevator, all full of himself with smarmy charm and had almost made it to her desk, when the boys decided enough was just about enough. They rose from their desks in near unison to cut him off at the pass.

"Come on, Demming, haven't you figured it out yet? Bristow just isn't interested." Ryan said.

"Come on, guys, you didn't see her in the exercise room." Demming replied, conspiratorially, trying to be _'one of the boys_'.

"Bro...back off and let her be, she's been having a really shitty day. Don't make us have to tell you again, it would not be healthy for you." Espo replied, with more than a hint of menace in his tone as even Ryan seemed to convey a sense of cold menace.

"Okay...okay...I get it." Demming muttered as he headed for the elevator, looking back a couple times at the death glare coming from both men as the elevator doors closed on him.

The two of them walked up behind her and Espo placed a brotherly hand on her shoulder.

"You okay Chica?"

"Yeah," Sydney replied, quietly, relieved to be rid of the man and suddenly filled with a sense of gratitude for the two men who had just defended her honor. "Just feeling a little down."

"Don't worry about Demming, he hits on just about anything female with a pulse, took forever to get him to leave Beckett alone last year. He pulls the "exercise room" thing a lot."

"Thanks guys." Sydney said, summoning a wan smile.

"Wanna talk about it? Maybe we can help." Ryan said softly.

Sydney thought it over for a few minutes, these were her teammates, men she was supposed to be able to trust. She had dossiers on everybody in the precinct courtesy for Director Webb, from Captain Montgomery down to the custodial staff. She had cleared the majority of the detectives whom Rodgers worked with daily of any evil intent. She had been working with both of them for several months now and what's more she liked them. This precinct had an air of family that the Vice squad she had been with in the LAPD had lacked.

"My husband died in Afghanistan two years ago today. He was with the State Department a troubleshooter attached to the embassy there when the SUV he was in was hit by an IED."

Though she felt like she was going to burst into tears, she also felt a lot better talking to someone about it. Though she knew what she told them was the official story of his activities, the fact that he was overseas and that he was gone was enough.

Their expressions softened as they pulled her out of her seat and tossed her coat at her.

"Come on, you're taking a personal day," Espo told her, "we're getting you out of here, don't worry we'll square it with the Captain."

"But..." Sydney tried to counter, but the boys simply weren't having it.

"Come on, Bristow, you're one if us, now. We take care of our own." Ryan said by way of explanation.

"Where are we going?" Sydney asked as she slid her jacket over her shoulders.

"There's this great new cop bar not far from here...it's called "The Old Haunt..." Ryan replied as the elevator doors closed.


	27. Old FriendsOld Haunts

**Chapter Twenty Six  
****Old Friends/Old Haunts**

"_The Old Haunt_"  
6:00 PM

Detective Sydney Bristow was on her third strawberry daiquiri that evening, reminiscing about her days as a vice cop with the LAPD. She'd had a good good cry for her husband on the car ride over, and now Ryan and Esposito had set about trying to cheer her up. The boys had been so sweet about it, starting from when they closed ranks and shielded her from that creep, Demming and also not pushing her too hard for details about Micheal's death. Javi had had a security clearance once, he obviously understood she had been told all she would be allowed to know, and some of that might be fiction. Ryan was just being kind and supportive, even though he had a girlfriend he'd much rather be spending time with. For the most part their efforts were working. Though the lingering sadness would likely never go away, she was feeling a bit...lighter.

They were being so...sweet...she couldn't help but get caught up in the moment and started gushing about some of her wilder cases in Los Angeles as well. Though she could tell a lot of the recent history they were talking was laced with a touch of melancholy, especially whenever the subject of Richard Rodgers came up. She could tell they had taken him in as a brother, just like they had with her. His pain was their pain and they wore their loyalty to this man and their supervisor on their sleeves for all to see.

At this point it was Ryan's turn as he shared one of their earliest stories as a team.

"...you had to see the look on Beckett's face! The guy was naked as they day he was born! I shit you not, her first day as lead detective, and she has to chase down, tackle and cuff "crazy naked guy!" She wouldn't look us in the eye for a week!"

Sydney was doing her best to stifle the giggles rising in her throat and failing miserably as she covered her mouth with her hands .

"You gotta be shitting me!" she said breathlessly.

"No, really Syd, she was blushing scarlet the entire time she was filling out the arrest report for that one!" Espo replied, mirthfully as Ryan took another pull on his beer.

"When Karpowski left a rather large man's bathrobe on her desk the next day, Ryan and I nearly died laughing, I thought Beckett was gonna shoot us both."

Kevin Ryan's face took on a more solemn expression all of a sudden, when he rose from his seat and lifted his glass.

"To Kate Beckett, one of the finest cops I have ever had the honor to serve with."

"To Kate Beckett." Sydney and Espo echoed as they, too raised their glasses.

Nobody noticed the older man with the graying crew cut standing by the office door, listening. Mike Royce had long ago learned how to be unobtrusive as he observed the patrons of this bar. He'd been a customer long before a random treasure hunt dug up by one of his bounties had afforded him enough money to buy the place to keep it out of the hands of a bar chain.

Though he hadn't worn a shield in years, he still enjoyed listening in to the shop talk that went on in his bar, sometimes the information proved useful, other times it just allowed him to bask in the afterglow of nostalgia after nearly twenty years on the job.

Royce especially paid close attention when any shop talk or gossip turned to his former (and favorite) trainee. He was proud of her when he heard good things about her, and concerned when her mistakes or character flaws were criticized too harshly. He'd cut off more than one drunk cop in the time he'd owned the place and personally (and none to gently) put him in a taxi home to sleep it off after his criticism crossed the line where Kate was concerned.

He was gratified to learn that Kate had done well for herself though, and was able to work with people who thought so well of her. He had taught her well. She had made no secret back in the day that she wanted more than the friendship they had, and had he been ten years younger he might have gone for it. But he had always felt she deserved better than a washed up old burnout like he was at the time. She was just a kid, and it wouldn't have been right. Breaking her heart had been the hardest, most painful thing he had ever had to do in his life.

When the three detective's conversation inexorably turned to the new man in her life, another FBI Agent, his interest was piqued. Since the last one she'd taken up with had worked out so well, he wasn't sure what she had been thinking going back to that particular well for another go at it. Though the way her colleagues at the table spoke of him, he seemed to be cut from a different cloth.

When talk turned to the daughter he had lost, his heart softened for the man a little. Because of her own personal tragedy, Kate always did a have a soft spot for sad stories, especially ones that mirrored her own. It would seem that she had found a kindred spirit in this Agent Rodgers after all.

"To Alexis Marie Harper Rodgers, may she rest in peace."

This toast had come from the older Hispanic detective. It was evident that this was loaded subject among them as he seemed to get choked up during his toast. The other two quickly and solemnly followed suit.

Royce waved their waitress over and told her that their next round was on the house, then disappeared back into his office. He was okay with listening in to shop talk and squad room gossip, but he knew that some conversations that went on between the members of a team were private and that privacy should be respected. Twenty years on the force had taught him _that_ too. Though he did decide that at some point he was going to have to meet this _Agent Rodgers_ and gauge the measure of the man for himself. Kate usually had really lousy taste in men, himself included.

That, of course would have to wait for another time. He had a job to do, a skip trace in Los Angeles and he needed to book a flight for tomorrow. Though he had bought the bar out of a sense of nostalgia, for the old days and an eye towards his golden years, his real job beckoned, bounty hunting.

Kate was a big girl, she could look after herself, sometimes she just needed a nudge in the right direction from time to time is all.

….

**One week later**

Mike Royce had known when he left Los Angeles that he was being followed. He had been counting on it. The longer he led Gant on a merry chase before he went to ground, the more time the girl who was running from him would have to disappear. Gant had been relentless in his pursuit, and now he was dragging himself along the asphalt looking for a place to hide, his right leg useless from the bullet that had likely cracked his femur.. When he heard the click of the pistol's hammer behind him, he knew he was caught.

"You should have stayed out of this, Royce." Gant said in an emotionless monotone.

"You have no idea the hell that's about to rain down on you" Mike Royce spat back at him, hoping the girl who had come to him for help had managed to find a place to disappear.

"Scary." Gant replied, before he pulled the trigger and Royce's body spasmed from the lethal shot to the head.

….

When Kate Beckett stepped out of her Crown Vic and made a beeline for the scene, Captain Montgomery, and Rick Rodgers were already there to meet her.

"Where is he?" Kaye asked, her voice shaky, as she started to move past them.

"Turn around and go back home, let me handle this." Montgomery said in a soft but authoritative voice.

"Sir, I've seen dead bodies before." She looked him in the eye, and he turned and stepped aside for her.

As she started walking toward the crime scene tape, Rick was right beside her.

"Come on, Kate I can tell you cared for this guy, are you sure you want to remember him like this?"

"Rick, if it was me lying there, would you just walk away?"

"No." Rick replied quietly.

'_if it were you, I'd leave my credentials at home and they'd be finding pieces of whomever did it from here to the Jersey Shore.'_ he thought to himself.

Kate had a brief conversation with Lanie about the evidence she had collected at the scene, and only then did she allow Rick to guide her out of the alley and take her home in his Suburban after making arrangements with the captain to have her Crown Vic driven home.

She was quiet the entire drive back to the loft. He could see the emotions working their way across her face , but she spoke not a word, nor made a sound. Her composure was beginning to crack as she got in the elevator, he could see her bottom lip quivering as they exited onto their floor. As soon as the front door to the loft closed behind them, Kate's walls crumbled.

She reached out to him and he folded her up in his embrace as she finally gave vent to the emotions she had been bottling up since seeing Mike Royce dead in that alley. So much like the way her mother was found, that it had her latent feelings for him all twisted up with thoughts of her mother. Her sobs broke his heart. This had come so soon after her recovery from the incident in the alley that Rick was becoming angry at the universe. The woman he loved just never seemed to catch a break.

"Mike...was my training officer after I got out of the academy." she choked out

"I was...in love...with him...once...or at least I thought I was. I was just a kid, barely out of college...but he showed me...what it meant to be a cop...he was my friend."

I...wanted more...than that...practically threw myself at him...but he didn't...it dove him away...I...I..."

The rest of what she was trying to say trailed off into sobs as she completely broke down. Rick kissed the top of her head and drew her into a comforting embrace.

"Shh Kate...it's ok...shh."

He walked her over to the couch and sat down pulling her down on top of him. He pulled off her high heeled boots and let her curl up next to him with her head in his lap as he drew soothing circles on her back and in her hair as cried herself out for her friend. He would have liked to have met this man.

Twenty Four hours later they were on a flight to Los Angeles.


	28. Return to Los Angeles

_Author's Note: Now I bet all of you really die hard Castle fans are asking yourselves **"What is Bug thinking? To love and Die In L.A.? Why is he going there BEFORE Knockdown, Setup and Countdown? Is he really skipping them, or has he completely lost his tiny little mind?"** _

_To ease your collective minds, no I am not insane, (yes Nerwen, I am in fact quite sane, deal with it. ;) ) and yes, I am intentionally rearranging the order of the episodes to do this first. Suffice it to say, the dissolving bullets are the key to this decision, and a plot involving Webb. Keep reading, it will all make sense later. _

_Shutterbug5269 _

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Seven  
****Return to Los Angeles**

About halfway through their flight to Los Angeles, Richard Rodgers' cell phone vibrated indicating an unknown caller with a blocked number. Kate was sleeping restlessly in the seat next to him, so he rose from his seat and headed up the aisle as he swept his finger across the screen to take the call.

"Rodgers." he stated firmly.

"Please hold for Director Webb." the pleasant sounding receptionist stated sweetly with a very slight Northern Virginia drawl.

The name was instantly familiar. Richard A. Webb, Director of Operations for the CIA, the man who had sent him the mysterious note that had started him on this strange roller coaster ride he'd been on. There was a time when he would have salivated over just this set of circumstances.

On a whim, after his security clearance had been reinstated, he looked up his file and it was so heavily redacted that the field was almost entirely blacked out between the notation of his service with the Navy Seals in Vietnam and his appointment and Senate confirmation as the Director of Operations two presidential terms ago. Only one line was visible in that large black field, it read:

10 April 1979 appointed Section Chief, Project: _"Archangel"_

When he had tried to do a search for that project, his access was denied, which told him just about everything he needed to know. When he was...shadowing Sophia Turner seemingly a lifetime ago, he asked once what kind of oversight they had in her line of work. She visibly shuddered, then told him he shouldn't ask damn fool questions like that where people could hear him.

When the hold music stopped, the line opened and the authoritative voice of an older man came on the line.

"Agent Rodgers, I know we haven't exactly met, but my name is Richard Webb. I know that right now, your primary focus for going to California again is to find the man who killed your partner's friend, but we may have common interests in this matter."

Rick's first thought at the end of this preamble, was how the man had found out what he was up to so quickly. _'Webb must have somebody in the precinct,'_ Rick thought to himself, _'probably more than one somebody.'_ He hadn't noticed a pattern of surveillance, and he'd been paranoid enough to be looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"Suffice it to say," Webb continued, "that the man you're going after is a former asset of mine. A very recently former asset, if you understand my meaning. Russel Ganz was contracted to acquire the recently completed ammunition for disposal. It had been commissioned for a special task group I was once in charge of."

Rick's thoughts went immediately to the mention of Project: _Archangel_ and once again began to wonder just what kind of project that might possibly have been, to need dissolving bullets.

"I wasn't sure if we could trust Charles Kelvin, or some of his associates to keep that ammunition off the market indefinitely, it was Ganz's assignment to clean up the problem. Obviously, he has decided to go into business for himself."

"To make a long story short, you partner's friend was already poking around, trying to help an actress that Ganz recruited for the job after his skip trace didn't pan out. I guess he had a penchant for picking up strays. He was already on the scene, was motivated and had the right skill-set for what I needed, from what I saw of his dossier so I hired him to do the legwork for us. It was important to fly under the radar on this and I couldn't afford to unmask any more of my assets."

All of a sudden, Rick was glad that Kate was asleep, he didn't think she'd like finding out that her friend was thrown to the wolves by the guy who was supposed to be on "their" side.

"I know what you're thinking." Webb said after a brief pause, "That I appealed to his sense of justice, used him and then threw him to the wolves. He wasn't supposed to actually _engage_ Ganz, just find out how he planned to move the ammunition, and whom he planned to sell it to. I would have called in the ATF to take care of the rest. Obviously Ganz caught on to him and the girl he was protecting before he could do that."

_'This is seriously beginning to sound like something out of __my books.' _ Rick thought to himself. He was half expecting Sophia Turner to come out of the woodwork.

"I spoke to your boss in DC and got him to clear you to investigate this, even smoothed things over with Detective Beckett's captain. As far as he knows she has been asked to render assistance to the FBI in this case. The Los Angeles FBI field office will be sent everything you need to know about Ganz and I've even arranged some temporary consultant credentials for her and a concealed weapon permit for California."

"Understood, Webb."

"Oh, and Rodgers, if some _"accident"_ were to befall Ganz before this is over, I won't cry."


	29. Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity

**Chapter Twenty Eight  
****Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity**

They had done it, they had cracked the case, they had Ganz dead to rights for the theft of the dissolving bullets, though the case against him for killing Mike Royce was mostly circumstantial without ballistics to back it up. When Ganz had made her as a cop after her display at the pool where he was holding court, she was disappointed, but did her level best to buy Rick as much time as she could.

Rodgers had been captivated by her as she stepped out of the water in that bikini. He did a double take but still managed to get Ganz's cell phone disassembled, copied his sim card and memory card data with no one the wiser, just like the tech had shown him. To throw off suspicion, he tipped over the table the cell phone had been on and left the phone in pieces on the floor for Ganz to put back together himself. Looking for all the world like a clumsy cabana boy had knocked it over. He escaped with only moments to spare.

When the call from the cyber division came back later that day, that they had the buyer along with the location and date of the meet, which was tomorrow afternoon on the boardwalk, it was just a waiting game now. They both decided that some relaxation was in order, but neither really wanted to go out, so they ordered dinner from room service and sat together on the sofa in the living room of the large two bedroom suite Webb had provided for them.

The better part of the evening was spent trying to get into Ganz's head, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Eventually the conversation turned back to Michael Royce, who had obviously taken Violet with him and run to New York after he had been made, hoping to gain some kind of advantage on home ground. He hadn't counted on a government trained assassin.

"I was so in awe of him, when we first met." Kate began softly, "I just hung on his every word. Then I found out later he was just making up stories to mess with me." She smiled for a moment at the pleasant memory, even laughed a little before her face became sad again.

"I can't believe that I'm never going to see him again." a single tear made it's way down her cheek.

"You know what I thought when I first met you?" Rick said quietly after a long pause. He moved forward when Kate nodded.

"That you were a mystery I was never going to solve. Even now, after spending all of this time with you, I'm still amazed, at the depth of your strength, your heart...and your integrity."

"You're not so bad yourself, Rick." Kate replied, a small smile on her lips.

Their eyes met and all words seemed meaningless in that moment as blue eyes were fixed on sienna. A fire was burning in each of them, one that had been smoldering since the night he had carried her out of her shattered apartment. Neither of them wanted to tear themselves away, to break that eye contact.

"I should go...it's late." Kate whispered as she rose on shaky legs and walked toward the door to her room.

"Kate..." Rick began, not sure what he was going to say next, desire was clogging his senses, desire he had not felt in a very long time. It actually frightened him with its intensity.

"Goodnight, Rick." She said sadly as she turned to face him and closed her door.

She turned her back to it and leaned against the doorjamb with her face in her hands, unsure of what she was going to do next. Rick had been hurting and alone for so long and she didn't want to take advantage of that. Her heart was telling her to go back out there, while her head was telling her to run...as far away as she could get, before she could hurt him even more.

She agonized over it for a moment that seemed to last forever before opening the door to find Rick standing on the other side of it. She pulled him toward her, stood up on her toes and kissed him hard on the mouth. Rick's arms found their way around her waist and lifted her from the floor as their mouths danced across each other, the kiss building in intensity as he carried her the last few feet to her bed and her bedroom door swung shut.

Neither was thinking of anything but each other as their clothes quickly found their way to the floor. Their passion burning to a fever pitch as he pinned her to the bed and made furious love to her. They had both wanted this for so long that neither held anything back. Her heavy breathing turned to low moans then to loud cries as they both gave in to their desires.

….

2:30 AM

Rick Rodgers lay in bed with Kate curled up asleep against him, her legs tangled with his and her head tucked against his chest as if listening to his heartbeat. Silently pondering if it had been a mistake to give in to his desire for her. She had been vulnerable after talking about her dead friend and he was beginning to think he had taken advantage of her. He hadn't been with a woman since December of 2002, the Christmas Eve after Alexis had died.

_Meredith had simply showed up at the loft that night, noted the absolute lack of décor and somewhere between dinner and the third bottle of wine the two of them were all over each other. Before either of them knew what was going on, they were tangled up with each other in his bed in a furious marathon of mind shattering sex the likes of which they hadn't had since before Alexis had been born. When they woke up the next morning and the previous night's activities caught up with them, Meredith burst into tears, apologized profusely, and after hurriedly getting dressed, fled crying from the loft into the gathering dawn. _

_He had learned recently in a letter she had sent him as part of her rehab that she had been trying to get him to make her pregnant again. The void in her life left behind by Alexis' death had really hit her hard that year between Thanksgiving and Christmas and after her third martini on the flight to NY the idea had struck her that she could start over, have another child with him and get it right this time. _

_It had been the first Christmas he had spent alone since Alexis had been born and he had let her take him to bed to fend off his own loneliness, his desperate need to feel...something. He should have had better willpower than that but the emptiness he felt had fully consumed him then. He had turned in the manuscript for Storm Fall to Black Pawn. It had been the final book in his contract and he had had no intention of renewing it. He would go on the publicity tour and then once the background check for the FBI was complete he would be off to Quantico for the next training cycle._

Both he and Meredith had regretted the selfishness of that act. They never spoke of it again and never repeated it since.

He was beginning to wonder if he had done the same thing last night with Kate. _'She deserves so much better than a broken man like me.'_ He thought, _'I can only drag her down.'_ He began to gently shift his position to get out from under Kate without waking her. Guilt began taking hold of him, guilt and shame for using her, for taking advantage of her like this. He had just swung his legs over the side and sat up when Kate sleepily reached for him.

"Please...don't go..." she whispered.

"Kate...I'm sorry...I shouldn't have..." Rick began, his head bowed low, but she sat up and slid next to him, drawing him back into her embrace.

"Rick, shh, I knew what I was doing when I opened that door." she whispered as she dropped a series of light, tender kisses on his temple, "I knew what I wanted...I wanted you...I still want you."

"I'm not even sure who I am anymore." Rick replied quietly, his head in his hands

"I'm not really sure who I am anymore either, Rick. I guess we'll just have to figure out who we are now together."

As Rick turned to look into her eyes, she gently took his face in both of her small hands and placed the lightest of kisses on his lips. When she released him and he straightened back out she took his right arm in both of hers and rested her head on his shoulder. When his back muscles finally relaxed, she pulled him back with her onto the bed.

"Come back to bed Rick"

He folded himself back into bed, pulling Kate to him. Slowly they both slid back into sleep, a soft smile on her lips. Tomorrow would take care of itself, right now she just wanted this.

….

Finding the buyer had been simple enough. Between the two of them, and Detective Seeger and his squad, taking down the buyer and the driver of the van containing the dissolving bullets, was child's play. They both surrendered without incident. The only thing that was missing from this picture was Ganz. He had made them. Kate caught sight of him after cuffing the driver of the van and gave chase down the boardwalk, then over the side of the pier and into the sand.

As he passed under the pier, she fired a single round into his leg...just like he had done to Mike. She stalked under the pier like the huntress that she is, gun at the ready. As she got close enough to see his face, to look him in the eye, she brought her gun up and lined up on his forehead. Rick had told her about his conversation with Rick Webb on the plane. She could kill this man free and clear if she wanted...and oh did she want to.

"I knew you were a cop!" Ganz grunted out arrogant even now.

"My name is Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. Michael Royce was my friend. You shot him and left him in an alley like a piece of garbage. Consider this poetic justice."

Ganz didn't flinch, he had trained for this eventuality.

"He said something about hell raining down on me." He said, giving her every curve a once over, "I never imagined hell would look like you."

Kate glared at him, he was at her mercy, a single twitch of her finger and he would die, there would be no consequences. Then she heard a voice, it was Mike's

"Don't do it, kid. He isn't worth it."

She grinned at him, tensed her fingers...she wanted to kill him...wanted to see his body spasm as the .40 caliber hollow point blew his brains out. Wanted it so bad she could taste it.

"Kate!"

Once she heard Rick's voice, the spell was broken. She could not honor Mike's memory by becoming a murderer in his name, only diminish him. His voice in her head had been right, this piece of garbage simply wasn't worth it.

"Russel Ganz, you are under arrest for the murder of Michael Royce, illegal weapons trafficking and grand theft."

Detective Seeger did the honors of cuffing him to the gurney as the paramedics began to work on him as she hand Rick holstered their weapons and walked back out into the sunlight.

"You okay?" Rick asked her.

"Yeah."

Later that afternoon after packing their things for the flight to New York, Rick finally got up the nerve to ask her.

"So, how close did you come? With Ganz?"

Kate looked away from him for a moment, then looked back at him with an almost serene expression on her face.

"Let's go home, Rick."

….

While Rick and Kate were walking through airport security at LAX, Russel Ganz was sitting in a hospital bed in the secure ward of UCLA Medical Center with two LAPD officers guarding his door.

Ganz saw a very distinguished looking doctor with all of the correct ID badges on his lab coat enter the room. For whatever reason neither of the officers followed him inside. Ganz however knew why. Knew this man was not a doctor of any kind.

"Hello Director Webb." Ganz said coldly, "been a long time."

"Yes it has, Russel." Rick Webb replied, "I don't get out of the office much anymore, but you have been a very naughty boy."

"I guess I should be flattered that I rated a house call from _Nemesis_ himself." Ganz snorted.

"Goodbye Russel." Rick Webb said as he raised the silenced pistol and fired two .25 caliber rounds into Ganz's forehead.

Richard Webb put away the silenced pistol in the doctor's bag he was carrying and walked out of the room, the two guards sitting on the floor sleeping peacefully. The roofies he had put into their coffees would not only keep them out for the next several minutes, but remove any memory of his having been there.

There was a time when he had been well known for his surgical strikes. Even in the chaos that was Vietnam he had hated the idea of collateral damage. He even used a drug that would be easily identified so the two officers would not come to grief later.

"Goodnight gentleman, sorry about the mess." he whispered casually has he walked past them and down the hall.

….

As Rick Rodgers slept peacefully on the flight home, Kate finally opened the letter that Royce had sent her.

_I'm not going to make any excuses. I know that how I ended things with you all those years ago hurt a lot. What you wanted more from me was more than I was able to give you. You looked up to me then and I simply could not abuse that trust. If I had, we would have both regretted it later. You were at the very beginning of your time on the job, and I was near the end of mine. _

_After what had happened with your mom and dad, I know the last thing you wanted was to be abandoned again, but I simply couldn't be the man you wanted me to be. Not when you deserved so much better._

_So why am I writing this? I think there's a chance we might never see each other again, and if that happens, I don't want you to think that I didn't care, or that I was anything but proud of the cop you have become._

_Now for the hard part kid. I overheard some of your team mates talking in my bar and it's clear that you and this Agent Rodgers may have found something real. Whatever you do, don't fight it, kid. Trust me, putting the job ahead of your heart would be a mistake. Risking our hearts is why we're alive. The last thing you want is to look back on your life and wonder._

_If only._

Kate folded the letter carefully, slid it into her purse and looked over at the man sleeping peacefully in the seat next to her. Seeing his face asleep, without the haunted look he seemed to carry like a sickness she realized just how much she loved him and how happy she felt that they had taken their relationship to this new level.

They were kindred spirits who had found each other in the storm of their chaotic and tragic lives. She ran her fingers through the lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes and smoothed it back into place. She knew precisely where she belonged.

At his side, always. Whatever fate befell them, or whatever storm came their way they would face it together.


	30. 3XK

**Chapter Twenty Nine  
****3XK**

While Detective Beckett and Agent Rodgers were away on detached assignment in Los Angeles, Sydney Bristow got the early morning call for a body drop. A blonde woman (identified as Karen Russo) was found strangled in an alley and laid out as if sleeping. The only indication of violence was the angry red ligature mark around her neck.

She remembered a similar case in L.A., about five years earlier. She had been pulled off of vice to be part of the task force looking for him, but he had made his three kills and promptly disappeared. It had been over quickly and she was returned to vice not long after, but the chilling nature of the crimes had stuck with her. She had heard he had struck again here in New York a year later, and that was confirmed by Captain Montgomery who had been on the task force at the time.

The ligature marks were right but the ritual after the fact had been all wrong. Something had gotten the triple killer to stop for four years, no murders anywhere. Contrary to popular myth, serial killers don't just stop unless they are acted upon. they either die or they pick up and kill somewhere else. But with this guy it was like the earth had simply opened up and swallowed him whole four years ago. Something got him to stop, she just had to figure out what.

A short time later, another blonde woman was found dead, this time in her apartment, a closer fit to the 3XK pattern. Almost as if the first had been an exercise...a dry run.

"Her name is Kim Foster," Lanie said, "Twenty eight, an interior designer. Same rope marks on her neck, same everything."

"When did she die?" Sydney asked dryly. She hadn't seen garrote work this efficient since her CIA/SD-6 days.

"Based on liver temp, I'd say sometime last night, probably early evening."

If he was true to form, he would pick up and go elsewhere after the third kill. He was a lot more consistent than other serial killers, more controlled and precise than was common. This guy didn't kill on impulse, it almost seemed like a game to him.

Ryan had managed to figure out that Karen Russo had called the tip-line four years ago, she had seen him and called it in, forcing him to disappear prematurely. Sydney now knew why he had come back, and a plausible theory as to why Karen Russo had been killed outside. He had come back to finish the last set of killings. He wasn't just out to kill..he was tying loose ends.

As Sydney was coming to this realization, Espo waked in with a match from the partial print from the second crime scene. They now had a name, Marcus Gates. He had served four years in prison in Sing Sing and had recently gotten out. After checking with Sing Sing, they found that Marcus had given all of his stuff from inside to his cell mate. Jerry Tyson.

Tyson led then to a place where Gates liked to drink called the Hogsneck, where they found him and brought him in without a fight. Conspicuously without a fight. He had even reminded them to read him his rights. Montgomery seemed relieved, but Sydney was uneasy. This was all falling together far too easily. Gates was able to alibi out but everyone was so sure it it was him. Sydney wasn't quite convinced. She wanted another crack at Tyson, he knew something, ad it was obvious that Gates knew what it was. He refused to talk to them though, unless they got him out of Sing Sing. Word had gotten out that he had snitched and it was open season on him.

As they waited for the DA to approve the deal, Sydney and Ryan pulled him from Sing Sing and into protective custody as a material witness. As they took over for the two uniforms, Ryan gave Tyson an up and down appraisal. He didn't like what he saw.

"My name's detective Ryan, I'm your new best friend."

Ryan didn't like dealing with convicts, and it showed. Especially convicts trying to cut a deal to get out of jail that probably wasn't worth the paper it was printed on. He'd seen far too many deals like this one in Narcotics division. Guys he had busted his ass to put away, back on the street because they had "information" on some "bigger fish" that nine times out of ten was either bogus, or went absolutely nowhere.

It was one of many reasons why he had transferred out. That and his partner ratting him out to the drug traffickers who had him in their pocket while he was undercover. He had very nearly been killed. Homicide was simpler, neater, and much less of a revolving door than Narcotics.

Kevin Ryan's reflections were cut short, however, as he felt a flash of pain on the back of his head, his vision swam as he dropped to the floor, then everything went black.

….

As Detective Sydney Bristow slowly returned to consciousness, three things became readily apparent.

One: She had a splitting headache.

Two: Her gun, cell phone and collapsible baton were gone.

Three: she was handcuffed to a straight back chair between the beds in the low rent motel they had meant to use as a safe house.

Jerry Tyson stood in the center of the room as if he had been patiently waiting for her to wake up.

"Ah, good." he said almost cheerfully, "You're awake, it's so much more fun this way."

He had her gun, and Ryan's in the waistband of his pants, their other items, along with her asp their cell phones and Ryan's police radio were on the writing table within easy reach...had her hands been free.

"Before you ask, Detective Bristow, no I'm not going to kill you. You're not my type." He said, sardonically

"What about Ryan?" she asked huskily as she began to work feeling back into her hands.

"I hit him a little harder in the head that I had anticipated, but he should live to fight another day. He'll survive till the shift change in a couple hours."

"Why do this then?" she engaged, trying to keep him talking, she needed to buy time to get loose. Thankfully he wasn't nearly as smart as he thought he was. He'd secured her wrists behind her with her own cuffs.

"Because I could tell when I met you that you were too smart to fall for the web of deceit I was spinning. I could see it in your eyes that you were figuring it out. Gates had screwed up the first kill. I could tell that you were putting the pieces together."

The smug self satisfied grin told her that he liked to talk, liked to brag. She was sure his victims all heard about how smart he was.

"I wanted you to know that I had beaten you. That I will be back out in the world, killing again because you couldn't stop me. I'll be free to play anywhere I like and you won't be able to do anything about it."

Tyson blew her a kiss as he turned for the door, pulling his bolt bag over his shoulder. Once his back was turned, Sydney took her turn to speak.

"Two rather small problems with your plan, _Jerry_." Sydney called out to him with a mocking tone, laughter nearly on her lips.

"One I wasn't always a cop."

As Tyson turned around to face her indignant use of his first name, spoken just like her mother would have, taunting him just before he caught another beating. He pulled Sydney's pistol from his belt, but it was swatted away, by a spinning kick and clattered against the wall across the room. She jerked him off balance by the wrist before the shock wore off that she was on her feet, not cuffed to a chair five feet away as the door slammed shut.

He went for Ryan's gun next, as Sydney snapped her asp collapsible baton to it's full length, breaking all four fingers on his right hand as he brought the gun up. Ryan's Glock 17 bounced uselessly across the carpet as Tyson howled in pain. Before he could react further, she followed through on her momentum from the previous strike took out his left knee with a sickening pop as the kneecap shattered from the force of the blow, dropping Tyson to the floor.

She pulled him up roughly on his good knee and purred seductively in his ear,

"The second was was securing me with my own handcuffs. Soooo Junior league." She crossed her arms around his head and coolly snapped his neck, letting his body drop bonelessly to the floor.

"Amateurs" she remarked coldly to herself, not betraying for one second even the slightest regret for ending the life of this pathetic excuse for a man.

Her feelings became much more apparent as she caught sight of Ryan. Tyson had seen him as the bigger physical threat. The large, garish, purple bruise on the back of his head filled her with worry for him as she called it in.

"One Adam twelve, One Adam twelve...officer needs assistance. One officer down, suspect deceased. I need a bus and a medical examiner."

When Esposito kicked the door in less than five minutes later, with Hastings close on his heels, Ryan had regained consciousness but displayed the classic signs of a bad concussion. The bus arrived less than a minute later, followed by Dr. Parrish.

….

The ambulance carrying Kevin Ryan had pulled away five minutes ago. Sydney Bristow sat on a bench overlooking the motel pool, all of the police and ambulance flashing lights were not playing well with the headache she was nursing. She, herself could not leave the scene till IAB came to speak to her.

She was mildly surprised when Javier Esposito sat down beside her. She would have sworn that he would be following the ambulance Ryan was in. He had been sitting up on the bench in the back, mostly lucid, but the paramedic had insisted on taking him to Mercy Hospital for observation. Montgomery had taken one look at the bruise on his head, and made it an order. Javi seemed downright gentle in his brotherly affection. Any other day she would have found his gesture to be really cute.

"Thanks for looking out for my boy, Ryan. I don't know if I could handle losing another partner."

Sydney nodded.

"We cops gotta look out for our own, especially when they can't do it for themselves. He woulda done the same for me, I'm sure."

She was again touched by the camaraderie of the members of this team. They were more like a large dysfunctional family than co-workers. Ryan and Esposito had even taken to calling Beckett and Rodgers "mom and dad" it was sweet.

"IAB was here," Espo said, "strangest thing I ever saw. While they were peppering Lanie with questions regarding the nature of Tyson's death and trying to get straight answers out of Ryan in the bus, the senior of the two got a phone call." Espo seemed genuinely confused at the turn of events, but Sydney was really not surprised.

"The guy actually paled for a split second, and after he recovered, he said 'yes sir," told us you were cleared, that it was justifiable given your circumstances then they left in an awful rush. Like I said, damnedest thing I ever saw from the rat squad."

Sydney pondered for a moment what Director Webb might have said, done, or intimated that would cause an internal affairs officer to not only back off from investigating her, but to actually recoil like that. She figured she was probably better off not knowing.

Espo rose to his feet and changed the subject.

"What do you say we roll out of here and go see how Kev is doing? If we hurry, we might be able to get incriminating cell phone pics of him all kissyface with Jenny!"

Espo put his hand out for her and she took it with an evil smirk on her face as the ibuprofen the medic had given her had finally taken hold.

"I like how you think, Javi," Sydney replied. "Ten bucks says he has her lipstick all over his face by the time we get there."

"You're on!" Espo replied as he pulled her to her feet and they headed in the direction of his Crown Vic.

Everything would soon be right with the world. Even better knowing that it was light one serial killer.


	31. Repercussions

**Chapter Thirty  
****Repercussions**

Sydney Bristow had completed her mandatory psych evaluation to be cleared to return to active duty. Dr. Burke had shown concern that she had little, if any, remorse for killing Jerry Tyson. She simply felt nothing, he noted, neither pleasure nor sorrow, something he rarely saw in people who weren't special forces commandos. He had found it quite a bit more healthy that she showed signs of regret for the injuries sustained by Detective Ryan. This was something he could work with. He had found her ability to compartmentalize to be disconcerting, but wasn't surprised by it. He saw it often enough in the cops he treated, though he rarely saw them more than once.

As she didn't seem to be prone to harming herself or others without just cause, he cleared her for active duty. When he told her this she actually seemed...disappointed. Like she had _wanted_ a reason to stay away from the precinct. When he had asked her why that was, she simply stated with a quiet, shy distant look.

"_I ignored my gut. All of my instincts told me this was a setup, like we were being led down the garden path, but I kept my mouth shut, didn't rock the boat and went along with the charade. Jerry Tyson almost got away, and Detective Ryan was very nearly killed as a result. I'm not sure I can face them, knowing I could have prevented this."_

"_Sydney, you can't change what happened that day," Dr. Burke had told her, "for better or for worse, the best you can do is move forward. I think if you give them a chance, I think your colleagues just might surprise you."_

He wasn't surprised that she didn't seem to believe him though.

….

Sydney Bristow stood in front of her full length mirror, unsure of the woman reflected back at her. She had left the world of espionage behind her years ago, but allowed herself to be pulled back into that world because as afraid of him as she was, she trusted Richard Webb. Because _Michael_ had trusted Richard Webb. The problem was somewhere in the last decade she had forgotten the golden rule of espionage trade-craft._"__Don't get attached.__"_

The problem was, she was attached. She cared about the people she was working with in the precinct. Holding back her skills, and ignoring her finely tuned instincts to conform to the role she was here to play as Webb's eyes and ears while his son was here was taking its toll. The one time she went in with Esposito to visit Ryan, she found herself unable to speak to him, or even look him in the eye. He was hurt because _she_ screwed up.

She sent Webb a message that very night via the established dead drop. The note read,

_**I am compromised.  
I can no longer be trusted to remain objective.  
I have become attached to these people.  
Requesting immediate extraction.**_

One day later she received her reply.

_**Assessment noted.  
Objectivity is not a required mission parameter.  
Continue with the operation, request denied.**_

In her entire career she had never been on a mission where objectivity was _not_ a required mission parameter. She had only sent a message like this once before and she had been extracted almost immediately. She had no choice but to go back now, to face them. Compromised as she was, she still had a mission to complete.

This time, however there would be no holding back, no pretending she was less than what she was. She would not allow what happened to Kevin Ryan to _ever_ happen again.

Not on her watch.

….

A lawyer had come to the Rodgers loft the day after they returned from L.A.. It would seem that Royce didn't have any living relatives and had left everything to Kate, meager as his "estate" was. He had managed to keep himself relatively debt free, though the one thing that caused Kate some consternation was a notation for a property called "_The Old Haunt_."

Kate had been somewhat out of touch the last couple of months for obvious reasons, so she was unaware that it was a cop bar. Rick, however remembered the name almost immediately. He had written nearly all of In A Hail Of Bullets in one of the booths there. The thought of going down there with Kate filled him with a sense of both curious nostalgia and dread.

"What the hell am I going to do with a _bar_, Rick?" She had asked him after the eager young lawyer read out Michael Royce's last will and testament.

"_The Old Haunt_" wasn't just any bar, Rick mused to himself. He had been a completely different person when he was last there. Kyra had not yet left him and he was blissfully happy for what he hadn't known back then would be one of the last times he would feel that way for a very long time. He hadn't been back since. Single parenthood left little time for carousing, and after Alexis was gone, he found that he preferred to get drunk in private where no one would intrude on his grief.

An interesting case of serendipity indeed. Now that he was finally beginning to reconcile his past life with his present one, another reminder of those early times, when life was neither so complicated or so painful drifts into his path.

….

They had decided to go in and take a look at the place on Monday, when it was closed most of the day for inventory, to meet the people that Royce had employed to run the place. Rick had called a couple accountant friends of his to look over the books. Everything seemed to be in order, including the kitchen and the liquor license. As soon as they walked in the door, a rather large, gregarious man approached them, and extended his hand to Kate.

"Hello, I'm Greg, you must be the new owner, Royce described you once but he hardly did you justice!"

"Kate Beckett." She replied as she shook his hand which dwarfed hers easily. "I'm a cop, I don't know the first thing about running a bar, nor do I have time in my day to day."

"It was the same with Royce, which is why he hired me." Greg replied, "I took care of most of the day to day operation, and kept him up to speed with what's going on, or when something needed his signature. If you wish I could do the same for you."

"That would be best." Kate replied with a wistful smile, "I'm not interested in turning anyone out on the street, if you can keep this place running as well for me as you did for Royce we'll get along famously."

"His office was right this way, down the hall." Greg said as he pointed in the appropriate direction, "Mine is downstairs near the entrance to the old catacombs. This place used to be a speakeasy during prohibition, I thought the idea of the old escape tunnels to be half the fun of running this place. Makes for a nice place to keep the wine chilled too."

"Royce, on the other hand liked to be near the patrons. He liked to listen in on the shop talk between the cops in here, reminded him of his days on the force."

Kate shrugged her shoulders and replied, "Yeah, that definitely sounds like classic Royce, he might have come off as tough most of the time, but he was an old softie at heart."

Greg nodded in assent. He and Royce went back a long way. After getting out of the Navy Seals, he had needed someone to give him a chance, and Royce had done just that. He owed the man a lot.

"Something wrong with your friend?" Greg asked, pointing at Rick, "He's been staring at that booth over there for quite a long time."

When Kate turned her head to look at Rick she saw a look of wistful melancholy on his face as he looked down at the table running the tips of his fingers over a spot on its surface. She excused herself and walked over to him, taking his arm, lacing her fingers through his. The words "_Richard Castle was here, 10/01/88_" was cut into the table. When she turned her head to look in his eyes, she saw the real reason he was drawn to this booth.

A photograph of a young Richard Castle. Unburdened by sadness, eyes bright, and a mischievous expression on his face as he looked out from the photo. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart clenched in her chest. It was all she could do to choke back the tears forming in her eyes, as she rested her head on his shoulder .

"This was taken in 1989 about a month or two before I met Kyra. I wrote In A Hail Of Bullets right here in this booth." he whispered quietly. "When it hit the bestseller list, the owner back then took this picture and framed it. Little did I know the torment life had in store for me the day this was taken."

Kate saw the old familiar pain in his eyes as he looked at the younger, happier version of himself. It made her heart ache to see him like this.

"Do you regret any of it?" she asked quietly.

"Not a thing." Rick whispered in her ear after pressing a kiss to her temple, "I wouldn't trade those memories for anything in the 'verse, in spite of the pain they cause me now. Except for losing Alexis, I wouldn't change a thing."

….

Martha Rodgers had been puttering around in the office of her acting school for the better part of two hours when the service entrance buzzer rang. She hadn't ordered anything for the school, and she certainly wasn't expecting a delivery today. It all seemed rather odd to her.

When she opened the door, a bicycle messenger stood there with a package for her to sign for. It was rather small, but she signed for the package and tipped the young man generously with a smile.

When she got back to the office after closing and locking the service entrance she unwrapped the package revealing a box containing a small flip style cell phone. A few minutes after opening the box and turning it on, the small phone rang.

"Hello?" Martha said suspiciously. When she heard the voice of the man on the other end she very nearly fainted from shock.

"Hello Martha, it's Rick..."


	32. The Prodigal Father Returns

**Chapter Thirty One**

**The Prodigal Father Returns**

Richard Webb sat at his desk, lost in thought as he listened to Martha breathe carefully in and out for a moment on the other end of the line. The deeply schooled breathing exercises that he knew from distant memory heralded she had something important to say. He spoke first however, hoping to give her assurances.

"Martha, I know this comes as a bit of a shock after all this time, but..."

"A bit of a shock?" Martha interrupted, Her voice strained, her anger just beginning to wind up. "A bit of a shock? You mean like you walking out on me? On Richard?"

"Like wondering where you went, whether you were alive or dead? Praying to catch a glimpse of you on television, then praying I didn't?"

She took in a deep breath but continued before he could get a word in edgewise.

"Now you come back after _**forty three years**_ and think you can just pick up where we left off?"

"Where were _you_ when Richard needed a _father_? Where were _you_ when he cried himself to sleep _every night_ because the other boys at school tormented him for being a bastard? Where were _you_ when he was ten years old and he wanted to know why his _daddy_ didn't want him?"

"Martha..." Rick tried to interject.

"Don't you _Martha_ me, Goddammit, I am well past wanting to hear your excuses, you are forty years too late!" she screamed into the phone.

"Martha, please...let me explain..." Rick pleaded.

"Explain? Explain _what_?" Martha shot back at him, her words stabbing deep into his heart, "Why you left? Why you didn't say so much as _goodbye_? Or why you never even bothered to _try_ to come back? Not even for your _son_! It's _too late_, Richard, don't call me, I'll call you! _Goodbye_, which is a hell of a lot more than you ever gave me!"

With that she snapped the phone closed, severing the connection. She turned it off before he could call back or send a text message and shoved it into the bottom drawer of her desk, dropped her head into her hands and burst into tears. Sobbing for a man that in spite of everything she had just said, she still loved. She just couldn't forgive him for this, not yet.

Richard Webb sighed quietly as he sank back into his office chair. He had expected her to be angry with him. Livid even. _'Hell she has every right to be after all this time.' _he thought bitterly to himself. Of all of the decisions he had been forced to make over the past forty three years, this one had been the hardest and caused him the most pain and regret. Made him an outsider in the lives of the woman he loved and his son, the only family he had left in this world. Everyone else had been taken from him.

More had been going on back then than she knew.

….

May 15th

1967

_Lieutenant JG Richard Webb had come home from Vietnam a different man than when he had left home for basic training five years before. He looked at the world differently. When he looked at strangers on the street, he subconsciously assessed how he could subdue and neutralize them if they became a threat. The Navy Seals had taught him to be a living weapon, what they had neglected to do was teach him how to turn it off. He still traded letters with the other two men in his element that had survived the war with him, CPO Jack Bracken, and Bosun's Mate Michael Smith. Three tours in country had bound the three of them irrevocably together as if they had emerged from the same womb._

_He had only been home for little more than a week, a house quiet without the sounds a family all but gone, father and mother dead, little sister run away to New York City to be an actress on Broadway. He was completely alone for the first time in his entire life. He simply didn't know what to do with himself. The phone on the wall rang at about 5PM. A phone call which would alter his life in ways her would never be able to imagine. At the other end of the line was an NYPD detective named Sean Patrick Ryan._

_He needed him to come to the city and identify a body. _

_Jack had offered to let him stay at the family compound. His family was distantly related to the Astor clan, and was from old money, something he had kept quiet in the teams he had joined to prove that he was more than a skinny rich kid from Manhattan. He thanked him and packed a bag. The next morning he made the five hour drive into the city._

_When the medical examiner had pulled back the sheet revealing the bruised face of his little sister, Nancy, barely nineteen. His last living relative and he had failed to protect her like their father had wanted him to. He had failed her, failed dad, failed his last mission, failed everyone. He had nothing left._

_He had served three tours in the jungles of South Vietnam, had seen up close and personal just about every depraved thing that one human being could inflict upon another, but he had never expected such horrors to find their way back to the world with him to strike so close to home._

_His baby sister had been used as a drug mule, sexually assaulted and murdered. He was going to find these men if it took the rest of his life. Find them, and make them pay. They had no idea the hellfire they had brought down on themselves. He would make sure they learned of their mistake before he sent them all to hell._

_He had enough pull to get his hands on his sister's arrest record with Vice. A few minor arrests for solicitation and possession. He had a buddy from boot camp who was now in Narcotics to get his hands on her full CI record as well as known associates. He had his suspect pool narrowed down within a week. Jack had greased the wheels for him to some degree, though he had no idea what he was planning to do with that information. His principle target was a small group of drug smugglers working out of Manhattan, catering to the upscale crowd._

_It had looked like Nancy had been ready to turn in the people she was running with and they had found out. When he was done, prison would be the least of their problems. First, however he needed street intelligence, the kind of knowledge not found in files or arrest records. The kind only held by men in the know, so he went hunting. After some careful "persuasion" involving a few broken fingers his selected "informant" provided all the intel he needed on his targets before ending up in the East River._

_Over the next six months, one at a time they each met with unfortunate, brutally violent deaths. He was careful not to repeat his methods of execution too much. What he hadn't known was that his methodical nature had attracted the attention of two widely different men._

_One was Lead Detective Sean Patrick Ryan of the 12th Precinct Homicide division. The very man who had brought him to Manhattan in the first place. He had found the connection between the murders that no one else could. Murders only linked by the skill and finesse behind their brutality._

_The other was a young hotshot CIA operative known only as "Mr. Gray" _

_Both wanted this ghost. One to arrest him, the other to recruit him. It was merely a matter of who would find him first._

_Shortly thereafter a completely different player entered stage right to truly complicate things. A young, beautiful, talented off Broadway ingenue by the name of Martha Rodgers._

_His world would never be the same._

_She had so captivated his world, that he had put his vengeance on hold for a time. For a brief period, he thought he could move beyond it, before the darkness once again descended. They had killed another of their girls, this one had been in police custody, but they posted her bail, walked her out the door. The next day they left her out on the street for the world to see. Just like they had with Nancy._

_They were cleaning house. They saw the rest of the girls as a liability, a loose end that needed to be cut. They had to be stopped or others would share his sister's fate. He had to act, with brutal absolute finality. He had to finish this._

_He had wanted to let this go for Martha..wanted to be a better man for her, but he couldn't let this rest. When he left her small efficiency apartment for what he knew would be the last time, he planted a kiss on her forehead as she slept and hoped she could one day find it in herself to forgive him. He knew he would never forgive himself, but this had to be done. She deserved better than a murderer._

_The last of the men who had killed Nancy had to die._

_Gray had given him that much. After that he didn't care what the CIA wanted him to do. It would be his penance for failing Nancy, for abandoning Martha. He had been promised a full pardon for his crimes if he played ball with them. Perhaps one day he could make things right with Martha if he played the game._

He didn't know that his penance would take forty three years.

Make him the most feared shadow in American intelligence. Nor had he realized in his wildest imaginings that it would put him on a collision course with not only Martha, but his only son, now a man, broken, just like him. The apple never really does fall far from the tree.

He had made the first step in trying to set this long buried wrong he had committed against her right. The next move was up to her.

Until then he would do what he could to keep their son safe, he had paid his penance to the state, now he had to pay his penance to her.

It was all he had left.


	33. Guilt and Remorse

**Chapter Thirty Two  
****Guilt and Remorse**

Richard Webb's only real regret about the phone call to Martha was that he hadn't gotten the chance to say why he had called her bolt out of the blue exactly forty three years to the day after he walked out on her. He hadn't realized today's significance until he was left staring at the date on his cell phone when the call ended message flashed on its screen. She had deserved to find out from him that he was in direct contact with their son, not second hand or by accident.

Even though Richard had no idea who he truly was. He knew calling her was only going to end in confusion, heartache and pain for both of them, and would have preferred to leave her in peace otherwise. He felt like a complete idiot. Of all the _wrong_ times to call her, the anniversary of the day he had walked out on her and she had realized she was pregnant was quite likely the worst. (he had done the reverse calculations from the date of Rick's birth in his head)

He had known everything about the night of his son's birth because he had been there on a mission. When he saw her name and the reason for her hospital stay on the admissions forms at the nurse's station he had nearly broken cover. He was disguised as a hospital security guard which gave him access to pretty much everywhere, so he had witnessed Martha holding their son for the first time. The mixed look of joy and sadness on her face had broken his heart.

After dispatching his target and calling the cleaner, he had gone up to the nursery to see him for himself. His son. Though he had no reason to wonder why, the father's name on Rick's birth certificate had been left blank. He knew he had deserved that for what he'd done. He held his son, and swore to himself to do everything in his power to protect him. Not just from the world, not just from evil, but from him as well. He was a murderer several times over. He only knew how to do one thing well, Rick and Martha deserved a better life than that. He didn't want his darkness to touch his son.

He had sold his soul to the CIA to kill the rest of the men who had tortured Nancy to death and save the rest of the girls like her. Though only one had ever managed to rise above the existence he had found them in, however. Just like Nancy, Johanna Hughes was a fighter. The bastards hadn't broken her spirit like they had the others and she made the most of the escape he had provided. The others simply gravitated back to drug use, prostitution or jail. She had gone back to school, thrived on the challenges at Columbia's Law program. He had seen to it she had a generous "scholarship" so she would never again be forced to resort to prostitution to get by.

After easily passing the bar in NY State, she had gone on to meet a young man named Jim Beckett, fell in love, (she had resisted at first, but he had been dogged in his pursuit to woo her) got married and they started a family of their own. She had done her best with the gift of a fresh start he had offered her back then. Became a tireless advocate for the downtrodden, the meek, the powerless. Taken to heart the words he had whispered in her ear when he had released her from the basement prison she had been locked in.

_Vincit Omnia Veritas_ (Truth conquers all)

His one and only success story, until fate had so cruelly intervened on January 9th 1999. He had saved her, put her on a path to a better, more fulfilling life. Her conscience, her unerring pursuit of justice, her unrelenting drive to right the wrongs of powerful, evil men had been her undoing. The darkness had claimed her anyway, then moved on, not only to touch the man who loved her but their daughter, Kate too.

In his sister's name, he had saved her and for her sake, he would avenge her. Find the people responsible for her murder and make them pay. It was the only thing he had ever been good at.

Once again the darkness called out to him, whispering the name it knew him by.

"_Nemesis"_

He would let the darkness claim him, if he could keep it from the people he loved, the people he had sworn to protect. It was why he had walked away from Martha all those years ago, why he would continue to stay in the shadows now.

Ecce equus pallidus et qui sedebat nomine mortem. Infernus sequebatur post eum.

_(I saw a pale horse and its rider's name was death. Hell followed after him)_

...

Sydney Bristow sat at her desk at the 12th Precinct. Over the past several days, everyone had noticed how quiet and withdrawn she had become since coming back from her mandatory leave of abscence. Everyone was beginning to worry about her. Especially Kevin Ryan, and her partner, Ann Hastings.

She kept to herself whenever possible, and politely shunned any offer to go to lunch or out for drinks with the rest of the squad. It was like she had completely shut down after killing Jerry Tyson. She couldn't bear to be around these people after what he had nearly allowed to happen. She would be watchful, vigilant, but never let her gaurd down again. She had a mission to complete. She would bury her feelings deep down, they would only get in the way.

Tom Demming had conned her, or so he thought, into another "sparring session" hoping once again at an opportunity to get into her pants and she had so quickly, completely, mercilessly taken him apart that he never showed his face in the homicide division again. So complete was his humiliation, that he didn't even bother to file a grievance. Not that it would have gotten him very far, his reputation had worked its way around the precinct long ago. Plus, he would have had to admit that he had been taken down by a woman half his size. The male ego was such a fragile thing.

Sydney could not find it in herself to even care.

Though she didn't reaize it, her self destructive behavior was being noticed, not just by Richard Webb, but by Kevin Ryan as well. He could not simply stand idly by while Sydney tore herself apart. Though he rarely did such things, and almost never with women (as his father had long ago disabused him of the notion of fighting girls) he challenged Sydney to a sparring match of his own, though he knew by reputation she could take him apart easily. He was no slouch at hand to hand, as more than one perp had learned the hard way, but Sydney was simply out of his league.

As they circled each other warily in the sparring ring, Sydney tried to get him to back down.

"Kevin, you don't have to do this."

"Yes I do, Syd, you're pulling away from everybody, all we want to do is help you."

Ryan swung a hard right jab at her, which she batted away with ease, then used his own momentum to drive him into the ground, his right arm locked in both of hers.

"Why would you want to help me, Kevin, I almost got you killed."

When she released him, he swept her legs out from under her, sending her crashing backwards onto the mat, tangled in his legs, he pinned her temporarily to the floor and whispered in her ear,

"You weren't the one who hit me with a pipe, Tyson did. We all believed it was Gates."

She kicked out of his halfhearted arm bar easily returning them both to circling each other.

"I knew it was a setup from the beginning, I couldn't prove it, but the pieces of the puzzle were all far too convenient." Sydney said coldly, hoping to shock him, "But I said nothing...to anyone. Even Hastings was willing to throw half baked theories into the mix, and she isn't even a detective."

Ryan said the one thing that truly got a rise out of her since their sparring session began.

"Sydney, if I'd been in that motel room with anyone else, I would be dead now."

As if his words had flipped a switch, Sydney completely lost it and launched herself at him. She batted his pathetic defenses aside, struck him once in the solar plexus then spun around and struck him in the sternum with the heel of her hand before he could recover, propelling him backwards into the wall.

All of the emotion she had been trying to bottle up, the anger, the fear, the guilt, everything hit her all at once. She weakly continued to pummel him in the chest as she finally broke down, droppng to her knees on the floor, overwhelemed by everything she had tried to keep bottled up inside for far too long.

"It's all my fault Ryan...it's all my fault...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..."

Ryan knelt in front of her, pulled her head into his chest, and just let her let it all out, everything that she had been holding back. Having lived with five strong women in his life (his mother, his two older sisters, his boss and his girlfriend Jenny) had taught him a thing or two about tough, fierce, headstrong women.

Even they had their breaking point.

"This isn't just about me, is it?" Ryan asked quietly.

"No." Sydney whispered, "My husband...I used to work with him, he had asked me to go with him...one last mission before hanging it up for good...but I refused...swore I'd never return to that life. He...died...because I wasn't there to watch...to watch his back."

"Syd, we're a team here. All of us, okay? Do you understand?"

When she nodded weakly, he continued, "We look out for each other. You included, got that? We have your back just like you have ours. Captain Montgomery drilled that into us from day one."

"Because of you I will live to see my girl walk down the aisle with her dad in a white dress. She would be crying over a flag draped coffin if it wasn't for you. Thank you for my life."

"You proposed?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Yeah, last night, you are the first person I've told." Ryan replied. "Jenny wants you to be a bridesmaid, she agrees with me that you are the reason we have a future at all."

"Oh, Ryan..." she beamed for a moment, eyes once again filling up, overwhelmed by their gratitude which she was still reluctant to believe she deserved.

When she finally got up and walked to the showers, Ryan felt a true sense of accomplishment. He would be walking with a slight limp for at least a week, but it was worth it. As Espo bumped fists with him, and helped him out of the room to go see Lanie, (he was sure Sydney's last flurry of jabs had cracked a rib and it needed to be taped up) the two of them were sure of one thing.

Sydney seemed to be on the mend.

...

Martha's cell phone beeped letting her know she had a text message. It read:

_I'm sorry.  
I know that is inadequate for what I put you and  
Richard through, all these years, but it is all I can say.  
You deserved to hear from me that I have had dealings  
with him, not from Rick or some stranger.  
I never stopped loving you, both of you._

_Webb._

Martha was not sure which would be worse, that it was a lie or the truth. But for better or for worse, she believed him. Though she was a long way from being able to forgive him, she knew how tortured a soul he truly was. She had watched his restless, nightmare filled slumber more than once in the month they had been together. But for now she had to be wary, if his father had gotten involved, he knew the circumstances for Richard were dire.

She would have to be vigilant.


	34. Death Of A Muse

**Chapter Thirty Three  
****Death of a Muse**

For the better part of twenty years, all Sophia Turner wanted had been to go home. She had been placed in the United States as a sleeper agent in the early 80's at the tender age of fifteen by a nation and an organization that since 1991 no longer existed. As such, Sofia Romanova had all but ceased to exist. A reminder of an era between Russia and the United States that her home country now wanted to distance itself from in its bid to join NATO.

She had stayed with the CIA because she honestly had nowhere left to go. She was cast adrift with no bridge back to her home country. She had been taken off the street as an orphan with an unfortunate name to have in Soviet Moscow, and had actually managed to move to quite a high level in the organization she had been sent to collect intelligence on. Unfortunate that Mother Russia no longer desired nor valued her services.

At one time she had even caught the eye of a world famous mystery novelist. Richard Castle had been an attentive lover, if a bit annoyingly childish. A wealthy nine year old on a sugar rush half the time and an annoyingly sentimental sap the other half. She had feigned worry and disappointment about him when he broke off their partnership (both in the bedroom and out) when his daughter got sick, but in truth she was glad to be rid of him. She had done her duty to the CIA by coddling Richard Webb's son for a year, and she had become bored with him. Had she known his daughter dying might have actually made him more interesting, she would have poisoned the child herself.

A week ago she had "accidentally" run into him at the restaurant he and his live in girlfriend frequented, hoping it was a temporary enough arrangement that she could get close to him, maybe cultivate him as a resource in case the FBI ever got on to her. It hadn't worked out like she'd hoped, though. He politely, but firmly let her know he was off the market.

She was currently on assignment in Greece when there was a knock on her hotel room door. When she answered it an elderly man in a caterer's uniform walked in with her order from room service. When she raised her eyes from her purse with his tip she found a silenced pistol staring back at her.

"Sophia, dear, it has been quite a long time."

For the first time in her adult life she was filled with absolute cold terror. The small Glock in her purse may as well have been on the moon. There was only one man this could be.

"Nemesis" she breathed the name as if it were a curse.

"In case you were wondering we caught on to you in 1999. You really did send far too many requests for extraction. Too bad your handler defected, you might have been able to operate undetected for years."

"Why wait until now?"

"Originally I was going to try to turn you, just in case your countrymen got frisky again and sought to reactivate some of their assets. At worst we would have played the disinformation card. Your psych profile showed you have trust issues, and being betrayed by your own country would be a hell of a motivator. In the end it didn't seem to be worth the trouble"

"So this mission to Greece?"

"A ruse to get you out of the United States."

"What now?" she asked with a hint of resignation to her tone, considering Webb had come himself rather than send a proxy, the answer to her question was clear enough.

"I had been considering allowing you to slip away quietly, but for one thing."

"What was that?"

"You really should have stayed away from _my son_."

He punctuated his last statement with two rounds from his silenced pistol into her forehead. Her body jerked twice reflexively before dropping dead to the carpet.

"What a waste." he said to himself.

Her partner, Agent Danberg would find her later in the day. He would be coming in on that evening's flight, (thankfully they were not romantically entangled) everything had been carefully arranged. His son would never know that Sophia Turner was in actuality Sofia Romanova, KGB sleeper agent.

Rick would never have to live with the knowledge of another betrayal, another blow to his ability to trust his own judgment. He was just recently beginning to dig himself out from under the loss of his daughter and find comfort in the woman he loved. This enemy agent would no longer be in a position to undermine that.

She would get her honorable death in the line of duty, her star on the wall of heroes. Rick would mourn her as the loyal, dependable capable woman he remembered and immortalized as Clara Strike.

Not this cruel, manipulative, mercenary bitch Richard Webb knew her to be.

In a very small way, Katherine Houghton Beckett was already family. He was glad that she and his son had found each other and he would be damned if he was going to let anything come between them.

Now if only he could find out who this "Dragon" was. That man may not know it yet, but he had made a very dangerous enemy when he killed Johanna Beckett.

He would educate him about the depth of his mistake before he sent him to hell.


	35. Nightfall

**Guest reviewer Amiee:** Sorry you haven't been liking all of the attention I have been paying to Sydney lately, but it is important that I establish who she is, what she stands for, whom she serves and whom she protects, as she will have a pivotal role to play later. After this one last deviation, we will be getting back to the central characters at least for a time. Please be patient.

To everyone else who reviewed the last 33 chapters...Thank you! I love hearing what people have to say!

I guess it goes without saying that I don't own the rights to Castle, or to Alias. I'm just "borrowing" them for a little while. ;)

* * *

**Chapter Thirty Four  
****Nightfall**

It was the dark of the moon, and New York City was shrouded in the dim half-light of it's street lamps. No one noticed the dark clad masked figure moving swiftly and silently in the shadows cast in the dark alleyways, steering clear of the shafts of light cutting through the foggy darkness.

The solitary figure seemed content to prowl the dark shadowy world of New York's alleyways as if they were a second home. Content that was until a woman's high pitched scream rang in the darkness of the night. In an instant, the figure's senses go on full alert as it heads toward the sound of the screams that echoed faintly in the alley's walls.

The darkened figure descended upon a man brandishing a rather large knife on the source of the scream, demanding her purse and her jewelry. He was about to repeat his demand when he felt his knife hand yanked roughly aside and felt a pressure point being popped causing him to involuntarily open his hand to the sound of his knife clattering across the asphalt.

He yelped in pain, as his arm was suddenly under the control of another as a second pressure point was pressed his followed by his perspective shifting wildly as he was kicked in the back of his knee and was sent sprawling.

"Run!" the mysterious figure stage whispered hoarsely to the woman, who began to turn immediately. "Taxi stand...next block over...call 911!" the figure hissed at her retreating back as the young woman fled the alley.

The stymied mugger rose from the ground sputtering curses as he rounded on the source of his ire, rage blinding good judgment.

"You're gonna pay for that, asshole!" he shouted boldly.

"Bring it on." the masked vigilante hissed, raising an arm and wagging her fingers for him to come ahead.

The man rushed at the masked figure, his fist already cocking back, telegraphing his intent for all to see. He had the advantage of height and at least one hundred pounds on the masked vigilante. The results, however were entirely predictable.

The vigilante stepped into and around his poorly executed strike, his momentum carrying him past the masked figure as a kick to his solar plexus once again sent him sprawling.

"I'm gonna cut you, for that you son of a bitch!"

All pretense of self control on his part was now gone, the badly over matched mugger picked up his knife from the pavement and began to rise to his full height when he felt the cold steel of a razor sharp Katana at his throat which drew him to a complete stop.

His eyes bugged out at the sight of the curved, gleaming meter-long blade. His knife clattered uselessly to the ground as all fight went out of him. The sword at his throat began to apply just enough pressure to guide him all the way to his feet, then backwards toward the back wall of the alley.

"Tell all of your little friends," The vigilante told him in a hoarse whisper, "the night belongs to Lone Vengeance. Make trouble on _MY_ streets at your peril."

It was the last thing the man heard before the Katana slipped away from his throat. Quickly followed by a pommel strike to the side of his head, knocking him cold.

….

**Two hours later**

As Ann Hastings slipped into her living room window, via her fire escape, she pulled off her mask and gauntlets. It had been a very interesting patrol. She had broken up two muggings and an attempted sexual assault. All in all a very respectable night's business.

She knew better than to believe that she could clean up the entire city of New York by herself. Even a woman of her skills, hard won as they were in combat in the deserts of the middle east, she knew that she was inadequate to the task. She would count it as a success if she just managed to make her small corner of it even a little bit safer.

She was beginning to develop a reputation on the street. The small time criminals were beginning to fear the mask of Lone Vengeance. She would need to walk a very narrow tightrope if she wished to avoid becoming infamous. She had no illusions about her version of the Bat Signal becoming a fixture of the night sky. Just the opposite, if she were ever caught she knew she would be drummed off the force and likely would spend some time in prison. Though some of the fan mail that Paul got was downright embarrassing.

The complete lack of training and physical conditioning on the part of some of her "wannabe sidekicks" would make them more liability that asset and would likely get them killed. She would go it alone for the time being. Just as her thoughts began to slip toward her writer man, Paul Whitaker she is unsurprised to hear a knock on her door.

She had called him and told him to meet her there. He knew to wait until she turned the lights on in her apartment before coming up. She unlocked her door and yanked him inside. Her lips were plastered to his before her door could slam shut. Seeing her in the Lone Vengeance costume and knowing what she had been doing in it most of the night never failed to turn him on.

By the time the two of them reached her bed, their clothes were littering the floor, marking their uneven, uncoordinated circuitous route to her bedroom where they were tangled together in the throes of their lovemaking.

Three hours later, after four rounds of feverish lovemaking brought on by the sexual thrill of bringing his graphic novels to life, they lay basking in the afterglow of young passionate love. She had related every moment of the night's patrol in minute detail shortly after round two.

Hastings closed her eyes, slowly being lulled to sleep by the comforting sounds of Paul's fingers tapping out a staccato rhythm on his laptop as he feverishly typed up the storyline for the next installment of the adventures of Lone Vengeance. The same fingers that had only recently been caressing every inch of her body. She really loved being his muse, his inspiration, his lover and he gave her back absolute adoration in return. She was his cop-by-day, kick-ass vigilante crime fighter by night, and he was her writer man, her cheering section and her number one fan.

The time would come when she would no longer need Lone Vengeance, when she would have to put the costume away, shift her focus to being a cop in the real world and both of them knew it. When that time came, it would be okay as they had each other.

Forever.

….

**7AM**  
**the following morning**

It had been one of the rare occasions where Rick and Kate had slept apart.. They had had an argument about how public their relationship should be, which had gotten started as a disagreement about who had jurisdiction in their most recent kidnapping case, sniping back and forth at each other about it all day long, even after they had solved it and were doing the paperwork.

They had both exchanged angry, heated, petty, hurtful words that neither of them really meant, they had just been so wound up they couldn't stop or see reason. The fight came to and end, with Kate packing a bag and spending the night at Lanie's.

After they had both cooled off, they realized just how stupid their argument had really been and texted back and forth for over an hour apologizing for all of the unkind things they had said to each other in the heat of the moment. Before they both drifted off to sleep they made a date to meet for breakfast the next morning at Remy's to make up, both feeling guilty for letting such a stupid argument go so far.

When Kate got out of Lanie's shower, (the ME had left early as she had a lot of autopsy paperwork to catch up on over at OCME) her cell phone was ringing. Assuming it was Rick calling to confirm their breakfast date and lack of a body drop, she didn't even bother to look at the screen of her cell phone before accepting the call.

"Beckett..." she began, but was cut off by a voice she found both alien and chillingly familiar

"Detective Beckett, this is John Raglan, I was the lead investigator on your mother's homicide twelve years ago." She was taken aback by the identity of the caller, a man she had had no contact with since he met her father and her at their door twelve years ago.

"I remember you, Detective Raglan." she said, a fog of dark emotions playing out on her face.

"Listen, I...we need to talk...about your mother's case. There's something you don't know."

….

Twenty minutes later

The buzzer to the Rodgers loft was going off repeatedly. When Rick opened the door, he was met Kate Beckett, in his early morning daze, he barely registered the shocked, lost expression on her face.

"Kate, I thought we'd be meeting at Remy's? Come on in!"

"Rick, can we talk for a second?"


	36. Action Commenced

**Chapter Thirty Five  
****Action Commenced**

When Rick and Kate walked into the small diner, Kate nodded her head toward the booth where _former_ Detective John Raglan was sitting. He had obviously seen much better days. He had sallow skin and sunken, hollow, haunted eyes.

Rick could tell that the man was sick...very sick. He barely resembled the photo of him that was on his smart board. He knew the side effects of chemo by heart. He could tell the man had gone off the meds fairly recently too, as his hair was only just starting to come back. Alexis had looked very much the same in the six weeks between the first and second courses of chemotherapy when the oncologist had called a stop to the injections to run tests to see if they had been working.

Her eyebrows had grown back first, but later, he remembered his little girl looking like she'd just gotten out of boot camp. He had bought her sailor dresses to wear out of the house and camouflage outfits to play laser tag in to help her keep her spirits up. For a few short, blissful weeks she was his happy energetic little girl again. Sadly, it wasn't been meant to be.

He did his best to school his features, though. He wouldn't allow his own grief to intrude on this opportunity for Kate to finally get some answers. Answers that killing Dick Coonan last year had denied her. It took all of his willpower to clamp his traitorous emotions down hard.

In spite of being in her own personal hell, Kate noticed the faraway look on Rick's face as he studied Raglan's features, certain what they were reminding him of. The painful, heart wrenching memories he had been trying so hard to put behind him so he could live again that she could plainly see were being dragged to the front of his mind. She took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, saying _"Are you ok?"_ and _"I'm here."_ all in the same gesture. She knew it probably wasn't enough.

She could chart the sea change when he closed himself off and his _"Special Agent Rodgers"_ persona that she so hated to see, yet understood its necessity so well took hold and with it all emotion disappeared from his body language. She both envied him and pitied him for his ability to turn all of his feelings off.

As they eased into the booth across from Raglan, he noted that Kate wasn't alone, and didn't miss the noticeable bulge under his jacket.

"Lady, what part of _no cops_ didn't you understand?" Raglan said quietly but firmly.

"He's not a cop," Kate replied just as firmly.

"Well who the hell is he then, because he's pretty well armed." Raglan shot back.

"He's someone I trust a hell of a lot more than you." Kate replied, as the waitress walked up with the decaf pot and offered Raglan a refill of his coffee cup, which he accepted then waved her off when his cup was full enough.

"Tell me what I don't know about my mom's murder." Kate said firmly, trying to bring the conversation back to the reason she and Rodgers were here instead of at Remy's eating breakfast, holding hands under the table and trying to forget that yesterday's fight had ever happened. She was here for answers, not a pissing contest over why she refused to meet with him alone.

Raglan gave her a solemn look and a nod before he began.

"Everybody drinks their coffee out of cardboard cups these days, or those plastic travel mugs." Something about the wistful look on his face caused Rick to place one of his hands on hers to stop him from cutting the man short as he lifted his coffee cup to illustrate his point.

"But this...there's something about the way ceramic warms your hands that.." he chuckles for a moment, "it's weird...the things you notice."

He takes a shallow breath before looking back up at them.

"I just got the long face from the doc...Lymphoma...chemo didn't take...I have six months."

"Sorry to hear about that." Kate replied unsympathetically...now understanding why he'd called her after twelve years.

"Every year around the holidays, they run that Christmas Carol on local TV. When I was a kid, I remembered Jacob Marley scared the hell out of me...forced to drag that that chain around in the next life."

"I wear the chain I forged in life..." Rick began and Raglan's eyes locked on his for a moment, seeing something almost akin to sympathy there.

"...I made it **_link by link_**." He finished carefully emphasizing the links.

"I hid a lot of sins behind my badge, and now I gotta carry em." the former detective continued softly, "But your mother's case...that one weighs a ton."

"Because you wrote it off as random gang violence when you _knew_ it wasn't?" Kate asked harshly, anger beginning to creep into her voice.

"I did what I was told to do." he stated flatly, answering her angry scoff with a little flash of his own anger, "But, I kept quiet because I was afraid."

"About a year ago you were held hostage in your precinct, a hit man named Dick Coonan was killed by a federal agent. It was a big deal in the papers...people noticed."

"Who hired Coonan to kill my mom?" Kate asked point blank, trying to get him to get to the point.

"You need some context here." Raglan said quietly, "This thing started about nineteen years ago, before I ever knew who Johanna Beckett was. Nineteen years ago, I...I made a bad mistake...and that started the dominoes fallin'...one of em was your mother..."

Raglan was cut off when the coffee cup he had raised to his lips exploded as a high velocity round penetrated the window, whizzing past Rick's shoulder between the two of them, striking Raglan in the chest before he could continue further. Rick shoved Kate roughly to the floor as he rose from his seat, his weapon drawn.

"Everybody down! Now!" Rick shouted as he pushed past Kate's prone form on the floor to get out of the booth, trying to get a clear sight of where the shot had come from.

When he looked down at Raglan he could tell the man had taken the hit nearly dead center in the chest.

"Kate!" Rick hissed, "stay down, Raglan's hit."

He knelt down to put pressure on the wound on Raglan's chest, knowing the man's chances of living dropped every second as Kate called it in.

"One Lincoln Forty, I have shots fired...on fourth and main I need backup and an ambulance!"

"One Lincoln forty..." came the clear reply from dispatch, "...repeat your last transmission...you are broken...One Lincoln forty, repeat..."

Rick grabbed the radio from Kate and stated coldly into it, "This is _FBI_ _Special Agent_ Richard Rodgers with Homeland Security. You heard damn well what the detective just said! Stop stalling and get that ambulance and backup here **_now _**mister, or I'll have you up on _Federal_ charges of aiding and abetting an act of _domestic terror_! Do I make myself clear?"

The dispatcher on the other end gulped loudly and replied in a shaky voice,

"Affirmative, one Lincoln forty, ambulance and backup are rolling."

As those tense words were spoken, former Detective John Raglan breathed his last. When Rick returned the radio to Kate, she pressed the call button again.

"Dispatch please be advised that this is now a homicide."

When Kate looked up at Rick, all of the color went out of her face and her eyes went wide with terror when she noticed that he was bleeding.


	37. Chasing Shadows

**Chapter Thirty Six  
****Chasing Shadows**

"_Dispatch please be advised that this is now a homicide."_

_When Kate looked up at Rick, all of the color went out of her face and her eyes went wide with terror when she noticed that he was bleeding._

"Rick..." Kate managed to choke out, barely able to work his name past the lump in her throat, horror clearly visible on her face as she clutched his right arm, tugging at it to find the wound that was dripping blood down the sleeve of his leather jacket and dripping off his forearm.

As if for the first time, Rick looked down at his shoulder as Kate slid the sleeve off of his arm in a panicked haze, saw the graze from the high caliber round that had nicked him just before striking the dead body on the floor that had once been John Raglan. Kate pulled a bandana out of her coat pocket crumpled it in her hand and pressed it into the wound muttering nonsense words to herself over and over, before pulling her radio up to her lips in her other hand, finally finding her voice.

"Dispatch where is that ambulance, dammit?" her voice shook as she kept pressure on the wound. "I have wounded on site!"

Rick placed his hand over hers on his shoulder, as much to offer reassurance to Kate that he was ok as to take over applying direct pressure to the wound.

"Kate it was just a graze," he whispered into her hair, using his wounded arm to tug her shaking body to his, making her release her death-grip on it as he slipped his other one over her head, applying direct pressure both to his wounded shoulder and to the woman he loved. Her arms wrapped themselves around his waist instead.

"It's all right, Kate I'm going to be okay."

He hadn't seen her like this since the night he came back from his interrogation at the New York field office several weeks ago. It simply wasn't like her to lose it like this at a crime scene, as if she was seeing something entirely different that what was actually happening.

She had refused to talk about the nightmare she had obviously had that night, the one that had her running down the stairs in her bare feet to his room in the middle of the night. Seeing him bleeding had obviously set something off in her. Something dark and terrifying.

By the time they heard the approaching police sirens, Kate had stopped shaking, and began to put her own professional walls back in place. As the police cars and the ambulance became visible, she ducked out from under his arm and walked with him toward the exit of the diner. Before they stepped outside, she turned and planted a soft chaste kiss on his cheek.

"I'm so glad you're okay." she said in a hushed tone barely above a whisper.

"We'll talk later." Rick said quietly before he was descended upon by the paramedics, who walked him to the waiting ambulance to see to the superficial wound on his shoulder.

As he was whisked out of her sight, Kate barely repressed a shudder at his sudden absence. The nightmare she thought she had put behind her weeks ago, a vision of him broken and bleeding to death in her arms, his whispered "I love you." in his last shuddering breath flashed unbidden into her mind. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep the abject horror she felt off of her face.

Any other man in her life would have been sent packing the instant she felt anything near this strong about him. She would have walked...no...run away as fast as she could, before they left her or were taken from her like her mother was. She had spent the majority of her adult life shunning serious relationships to prevent her from ever again feeling the pain she felt when she lost her mom. She had been afraid to love, or be loved for fear of this exact circumstance.

Yet here she was, so desperately in love with this man that her need for him, a man as broken and as damaged as she was, had finally overridden her fear. She was, for the first time in her life, more afraid of hurting him than she was of losing him, though the thought that she might have lost him today scared her to death. That the last memory of him alive that she would have had was of a senseless, stupid, ridiculous argument they had had, a hastily packed bag and a slammed door.

Though her face and her body language gave nothing away, her true feelings were betrayed as a single tear wound its way down her cheek.

….

While Kate was waiting next to the ambulance for EMS to finish stitching up Rick's upper arm, leaning against it with her arms across her chest, shoring up her self control, Captain Montgomery walked up to her and asked how she was doing.

"I'm fine, I'll be better when they're done stitching up my partner." she said quietly.

"I thought it was just a flesh wound?" Montgomery asked.

"It is." Kate replied, "he was grazed in the upper arm by the shot that killed Raglan."

"I don't like this," Montgomery said tersely, "a retired NYPD cop gunned down in front of two of my people, one of whom, a _federal agent, _no less getting wounded in the process. That means I'm gonna have to do a damn press conference."

Montgomery gave her a hard stare, "Tell me the two of you didn't come down here without backup?"

"Sir...I..." Kate began, stumbling over her words.

"We were backing them up, Captain." Ryan said, appearing as if out of nowhere.

"Yeah," Esposito chimed in, "we were...uh... just down the block when it happened."

"Yeah, uh huh," Montgomery muttered, not believing a word of it.

"What the hell am I gonna do with you?" he asked her rhetorically, but she responded anyway.

"You're gonna let me work this case." Kate stated, her words coming perilously close to sounding like a demand.

"You're too close to it," Montgomery replied, "it's written all over your face. You're thinking '_what was Raglan gonna tell me before he died'_ when you should be thinkin' how you're gonna catch the guy that killed him."

"Sir," Kate pleaded, "Raglan was killed because he was gonna tell me something about my mother's case. Nobody knows it better than I do."

"Yeah, but I know you!" Montgomery shot back, "You wanna pick up those scissors and run around the house with em! But I'm telling you now, walk don't run. Go where the evidence leads, not the other way 'round."

He looked deep into eyes before finishing with, "Do you read me?"

"Yes, sir," Kate replied, "Loud and clear."

"Your partner has already bled for this, Beckett, tread carefully before anything worse can happen."

Though she was very careful not to let the Captain see it, she shivered involuntarily at his last words as he turned his back on her and approached the reporters to make a statement.

After making a quick trip to the loft, which consisted of Rick running in to get himself a fresh jacket, and Kate a clean shirt, they drove to the precinct in silence, an uneasy unspoken agreement to talk about the personal things later when they could clear the air. They even shared an entirely humorless joke between them about taking a rain check on their make-up breakfast. What needed to be said, the air that needed to be cleared between them would have to wait until they could afford to be vulnerable and distracted.

They both knew that this certainly wasn't the time.

….

Rick and Kate had just come back from talking to Gary McCallister who had given them the name of a drug kingpin at the time of her mother's murder named Vulcan Simmons.

"Assault, attempted murder, extortion, possession with intent, witness intimidation..." Kate began.

"And those are just the charges in New York City, his FBI file makes for very interesting reading." Rick jumped in, the two of them falling into a familiar pattern, in spite of themselves.

"Yeah but then it looks like it just dries up, nobody's booked him in years." Kate said back, the look between them deepening with every new piece of information they added to the mix.

"He got smart, you mean," Esposito added, "started swimming in deeper waters."

"Likely he's got other people to do the heavy lifting for him, now that he's one of the bigger fish." Rick interjected.

"Guess he's come a long way since Washington Heights." Ryan stated flatly, having tangled with Simmons' organization a time or two when he was in narcotics.

By the dark look in his eyes and the flat, even tone when he spoke, they all knew whatever it was had ended badly for him. That even Ryan had dark, painful memories he would rather keep to himself.

"Wait, what?" Kate asked emphatically, "Did you say Washington Heights?"

"Yeah, back in the day Simmons used to run the drug trade in Washington Heights."

Rick and Kate shared a knowing look between them, they had hashed and rehashed all of this during the summer they had spent in Los Angeles. How her mother and her colleagues had run a "take back the streets" campaign to curtail the drug trade in Washington Heights. It was all beginning to make sense to her now. Or at least she thought it was. She was thinking about her mother's murder, the hired hit man, and trying on the scowling face of Vulcan Simmons in the mugshot on the murder board on for size for the man that hired him.

The emotions ghosting across her beautiful features were enough to break Rick's heart. He had seen the same expression on Jake's face the last time he had come to visit before he died. She was teetering on the edge of the abyss now, he could see it. He would need to make sure he was there for her, like he hadn't been for his friend, if he wanted to keep her from falling over the edge into the black pit beyond. He knew deep in his heart, if anything happened to her, he would descend into one of his own, one from which he would never crawl out of.

….

"You've painted since the last time I was here." Vulcan Simmons said with a confident, no nonsense look on his face, as his eyes landed on Beckett, "You'd have been about sixteen, wrestling some pimply kid in the back of his daddy's wagon, wondering if you were going to give it to him or not."

"Hey...that's enough." Rick said menacingly, his expression darkening. Simmons seemed unimpressed. A smile slowly spreading on his face that was beginning to push Rick's buttons.

"Your pet fed is sweet on you." Simmons stated coldly in his low rumbling voice.

Rick realized in that instant the game that Simmons was playing, trying to take control of the interrogation, so he clamped down on his ruffled pride and indignation. His features hardened till they betrayed nothing. He had once stared down a serial killer in the box with this same ice cold expression, reduced him to a quivering wreck by staring at him with no emotion whatsoever.

He didn't think it would have the same effect on Simmons, though, but it was better than giving the bastard the satisfaction of thinking he was getting to him.

He could tell, however that's Kate's self discipline was beginning to wane. He could see the anger beginning to fester inside of her with every exchange of words between her and Simmons. He was seizing control of this interrogation and he knew that he was powerless to stop it without compromising her. Every time Kate tried to assert dominance over him, he came back with a step by step, by the book description of what she was doing without so much as a hitch in his smooth baritone delivery, all the while seeking to push her buttons by trying to bait him.

It was working.

"Johanna Beckett was murdered along with two of her colleagues. They were professional hits...carried out on your orders, and you had the cops on your payroll bury them."

Still Simmons betrayed nothing, he was a study in calm and self control. Kate, however was coming to the end of hers, Rick could read it in her body language, her clipped tones as she spoke, the flare of her nostrils, even the patterns of her breathing. Events were spinning out of control and he could see it, as she dug her mother's crime scene photo out of the file and set it in front of him. Daring him to admit her remembered her.

"You know, Detective Beckett," he said smoothly, leaning forward into her personal space, as if telling her a secret, "I think I do remember her...bled out in an alley like the trash she was." a smile beginning to grow on his face.

Kate's voice came out as a harsh raspy whisper, "Mr. Simmons, you better..." but he cut her off, the smile sliding away to reveal a darker, more predatory expression, not unlike the one Reginald Jacobs had leveled on her at his arraignment, with similar results. A hint of malice growing in his voice as she struggled vainly for control.

"Rich bitch from Uptown on safari in the Heights..._somebody_ shoulda warned her not to _feed_ or _tease_ the animals. If they had, might not have gotten eaten."

Rick could see her muscles coiling, but was unable to prevent what happened next.

"From what I hear though," be began as he got up and turned toward them, a wicked smile of genuine amusement growing on his face, "she was pretty tasty."

Kate was up in a heartbeat, grabbing the lapels of his jacket, slamming Simmons into the two way mirror so hard the glass cracked. The large, shit eating grin, however, never left his face. In fact it grew wider. This is what he'd wanted all along, the result he was hoping to bait her into.

"Beckett, no!" Rick shouted just an instant too late.

"Back off, Rodgers!" she shouted angrily

"Remember your old life, Vulcan," she hissed at him, her face inches from his, "savor it...because I'm gonna take it all away!"

Vulcan Simmons laughed right in her face as Ryan and Espo ran in to pull her off of him, kept right on laughing as she stalked angrily from the room, her self control completely gone.

He had won, and he knew it.

Vulcan Simmons was going to walk.


	38. Breakdown

**Chapter Thirty Seven  
****Breakdown**

"Beckett! My office, right now!" Captain Montgomery shouted across the bullpen.

Kate was halfway across the room to his office door before he had even gotten all the words out. Rick moved to follow her but the door slammed shut behind them before he could get halfway there. He was about to reach for the handle anyway, when Esposito put a hand gently on his arm and stopped him with a glance, not of reproach, because he shared his impulse to stand with her, but of brotherly concern for him. This outcome was not going to be pretty, and Espo knew it.

"I'm gonna have to kick that son of a bitch loose now, you _realize_ that?" Montgomery said angrily.

"_Sir_, you heard him! He as much as _confessed_ to the murder!"

"Come on...he's _playing_ you!" Montgomery shot back, "And you _let him_ get under your skin acting like a damn rookie!"

Kate was still seething, Roy could see it. She wasn't hearing him, wasn't listening to a damn thing he said. He could tell she was no longer thinking like the cop he had taught her to be, but like the dangerous wounded creature he had met in the property room so many years ago after her career had almost imploded from the last time she went down this self destructive path.

A path he had helped set her on nearly twenty years ago. He had taken it upon himself to try to help her as an act of contrition for what he had done, and what he had allowed to happen as a result. He had done his best to shield her from this case, sent her down more than one blind alley and wild goose chase until she had finally seen the futility of it and had backed off on her own. Now it was beginning again.

"We have nothing to tie him to Raglan's murder, or your mother's. You're off this case."

They were the only words she had been unprepared for and her shock at his statement was readily apparent on her face. Kate had to work her lips before she could choke the words out, her reply barely above a whisper.

"No, sir...you can't do that...not now..." she pleaded.

"I just did," he said, interrupting her attempt to coerce him to change his mind.

"No!" Kate said more forcefully.

"I just did!" Montgomery shouted authoritatively, "I gave you a chance to run this case and you blew it. Now go home!"

The look he shot her stopped any further argument on her part. The wounded, betrayed expression on her face spoke volumes before she stalked out the door grabbed her coat off the back of her chair and headed for the stairs, her emotions too raw, too close to the surface to wait for the elevator.

"Beckett..." Rick shouted after her, "Kate!" but she gave no indication she had heard him.

"You too, Rodgers, clear out!" Montgomery said

"What did I do?" Rodgers replied, he would have been the natural choice to pick up this case. Or so he thought.

"You were shot, remember? You're on disability leave effective immediately."

Montgomery then rounded on Ryan and Esposito. "As of this moment, you two are now running point on Raglan's homicide."

They tried to defer, out of respect for Kate, both looking sheepishly at Rick for a moment, but Rick shook his head, agreeing with the Captain at least in this, as Montgomery put them in their place.

"You want to help her? Find that shooter! Solve the damn case!"

When Montgomery turned around and found Rick still standing there he told him.

"What the hell are you still doing here? I said clear out...now!" then as he passed him on his way back to his office he said in a low whisper, "I know Beckett, she won't let this go...just try to keep her from doing anything really stupid."

….

When Richard Rodgers stepped out of the elevator into the precinct parking garage, he didn't have the foggiest idea of where to begin looking for Kate. She had walked to Lanie's after their fight, then taken a taxi to get back to the loft. They had gone to meet Raglan and then driven back to the precinct in his FBI issue Suburban. She could have gone anywhere in a haze of anger and betrayal over having the case taken away from her and grief over her mother, possibly even to the remains of her old apartment building, which was still in the process of being restored to being habitable.

When he got to his parking space he was shocked to find her in the passenger seat of his Suburban with a totally lost expression on her face and tears streaming down her cheeks. He had, of course programmed the keyless entry to accept her fingerprints to unlock the door, he was just surprised that the parking garage was as far as she'd gotten.

As he opened the driver's side door and climbed inside, Kate reached over and brushed her fingertips over the wound on his shoulder, careful not to apply any pressure so she wouldn't hurt him, Captain Montgomery's words from earlier today about her partner having "_already bled for this"_ ringing in her ears.

"It wasn't until I got all the way down here that I realized I had nowhere to go." Kate said quietly, barely choking back a sob.

….

When they got back to the loft, Kate walked to his bedroom to use his en suite bathroom to take a shower as most of her clothes had migrated to his bedroom closet from her bedroom upstairs since they came back from L.A.. She had been running flat out for the last twenty four hours taking only brief catnaps on the break room couch or at her desk, though the fact that she was completely exhausted was likely the least of her problems. Letting her take point on this investigation had been a mistake from the get-go, but he knew that Montgomery had to at least let her try. This is the most emotionally beaten down he had seen her since Reginald Jacob's arraignment, and it practically killed him to see her doing this to herself.

He was interrupted from his reverie by a knock on the door. When he opened it his mother stepped inside, wrapping him up almost immediately in a crushing hug.

"I thought you were going out for a spa day, Mother?" Rick asked, surprised to see her at his door.

"I heard about the shooting on the news." Martha replied, "It could have been you, it very nearly was, you know that don't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm fine, it wasn't me." Rick said woodenly, the stitches in his shoulder beginning to itch.

"You were really lucky yesterday." she countered in a hoarse whisper.

"It's a part of the job mother, you're over-reacting." he tried to put a soothing tone in his voice, "where is this coming from?"

Martha's first response was to slap him in the face.

"How the hell can you ask me something like that?" Martha shouted at him, her voice breaking, her eyes glistening with tears, "You ran off after Alexis died, threw yourself headlong into a world where your life was in near constant danger without a backward glance or a second thought about what losing you would do to the people who care about you, just like your **_father_** did!"

Before he could respond or even get in a word edgewise, she continued,

"Think about how much you loved Alexis, and that is how much I love you, and don't you **_DARE_** ask me where this is **_COMING FROM_**!"

With that, Martha turned on her heel and stalked out of the loft in tears before Rick could move to stop her, still trying to digest what she had said. In his entire life she had never mentioned his father, not even once. He had no idea who the man was, not even his name. His own eyes were beginning to mist over when he turned around and saw that there had been an audience for this awkwardly painful family moment.

Kate stood framed in the doorway to his office dressed in yoga pants and a loose fitting floral top, her eyes wide, her hair still damp from the shower. Guilt and fear were written all over her face. She had walked out on him the other day after a stupid fight she had started over nothing, dragged him into her meeting with Raglan which had nearly gotten him killed. Just when things can't possibly get worse, his mother hits him with a really low blow. Her own tears were back in full force as she ran to him and he swallowed her up into his embrace as the past three days events finally caught up with her.

"I'm so sorry, Rick...I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry."

He held Kate for several minutes until she cried herself out. He knew he was not going to let her sleep upstairs tonight, and she wasn't even seriously considering it either. He led her over to the couch and motioned for her to sit down, which she did, curling her long legs under her as she got comfortable while Rick went into the kitchen to make them some macaroni and cheese. He knew they were both too hungry to wait long, so he simply heated cooked the pasta and served it as rue.

He remembered from his own youth how his mother would make it this way for him on occasion when he needed some warm comfort food whenever the teasing he received at school about his parentage got to be too much. Or later when he would get sent home for getting into fights when boys at school called his mother a whore for having a child out of wedlock.

He needed that warm comfort now, and so did Kate.

….

Martha was still fuming when she found herself in the office of her acting school, dragging open her desk drawer and finding the burner phone Webb had sent her. She powered it up and sent a single text message.

_Don't you dare let anything happen to him,  
because he's all I have left._

Less than a minute later she received a reply.

_Not while I live, you have my word.  
Anyone who tries will find out why  
I am called "Nemesis"_

She sent a reply back before shutting the burner phone off,

_Thank you, Richard._

…_._

_Rick and Kate were sitting in "their" booth at Remy's eating breakfast and eying each other over their plates. It was a beautiful summer's day and the two of them only had eyes for each other. Whispered "I love you's" gave way to footsie under the table. Suddenly a shot rang out in the warm morning air and Rick dropped from the booth onto the cold floor, whispering "I love you" with his dying breath as she watched the light go out of his blue eyes and they darkened to gray._

_Suddenly her mother was standing over her, blood dripping from her abdomen and said in a chilling voice, "Let me go, Katie, before they come for you like they came for me..."_

Kate sat up bolt upright in bed screaming his name, tears running down her face, Her sudden movement and piercing scream had awakened Rick, who pulled her shaking body to his, whispering soothing nonsense words and running his hands up and down her back like he had done so many times in the past. Too many times for his liking, in spite of the fact that he loved having her in his arms.

She didn't tell him about this dream, she didn't have to. There were only two possibilities, either it was about him being killed, brought on by his near miss the other day or it was about her mother brought on by his mother's outburst last night which she had overheard. Little did he realize it had been both. Nor did it matter to him, his reaction would be the same regardless. He would hold her until she stilled enough to go back to sleep and do his best to keep her safe while she slept, and make sure he was here when she woke.

It was the only thing he could do.


	39. Redemption

**Chapter Thirty Eight  
****Redemption**

**4:25 AM**

Kate Beckett woke with a start, her heart hammering in her chest, her ears pounding. It hadn't been the dream again, in fact she had felt completely safe and protected, wrapped in Rick's warm, sheltering embrace as she slept. It wasn't fear, or anxiety that forced her to consciousness, it was a memory that had jumped out at her from a long forgotten haze. _Her mom's papers!_ She still had them! They hadn't been in her apartment when it had exploded...perhaps they still held something that would prove useful, a date in her day planner, a message on her old answering machine...something that would give her a new lead, a new direction to go in. Something..._anything_ to get Montgomery to give her the case back.

She was almost entirely dressed, had her four inch heeled boots in her hand, ready to sneak out of the loft when a shaft of light from the open doorway caught her eye, led her gaze back to a quiet, peacefully sleeping Rick Rodgers. She was stopped dead in her tracks with the bedroom door half open and almost instantly her heart was filled with shame. They had a pact between them, one made during their summer in L.A.. They would seek justice for her mother, and his friend...no secrets...no lies...no evasions...no sneaking off alone in the middle of the night. They would do it together...or not at all.

Then, all of a sudden, her mother's case beckons to her like a siren's song in her head and here she was, fully dressed, boots in hand, about to disappear in the middle of the night...abandon him and everything they had together...for a lead that in all likelihood would go nowhere, just like all of the other ones had. She was doing it...again...the shame and guilt burning in her heart made her feel sick.

Rick had already bled for her over this, just like Captain Montgomery said. If she abandoned him now and _anything_ else happened to him, she would _never_ be able to forgive herself. Never be able to look Martha Rodgers in the eye again.

Kate closed the bedroom door and turned her back to it, her tear-filled eyes once more fell on the man she loved, his body twitching in his sleep as she dropped her boots, slid down the length of the door, buried her head between her knees and sobbed over her weakness, slowly crying herself to sleep on the floor, because she didn't feel she deserved to be in the same bed with him. To feel the warmth and comfort of his embrace. She was ashamed of herself, and was exactly where she felt she deserved to lie, curled up on the hard, cold floor alone with her betrayal.

**Two hours later**

When Richard Rodgers woke up, he felt strangely cold, and when he reached out next to him, he found that Kate was gone, the faint scent of cherries still detectable on her pillow. Rick was confused, she had been sent home, one step below a formal suspension. She was not on call, so she would not have been informed of a body drop. In fact she was all but banned from the precinct until Ryan and Esposito solved the Raglan homicide. He was supposed to be looking out for her, keeping her safe, from herself as much as anything else.

He sprang from his bed, dressed quickly into the clothes he had laid out the night before. Having a "_GO_" outfit, something easy to jump into in case of an emergency, or late night crime scene had become an old habit after nearly a decade in federal law enforcement. She was all he had left, save for his mother. If she has come to harm while he was sleeping in his warm comfortable bed, he would never, ever forgive himself. Never be able to look Jim Beckett in the eye again.

His own nightmares flashed in his mind: Kate..._beaten, raped and dead in that alley, telling him she loved him as she bled out on the asphalt..._Kate..._lying dead in her cast iron bathtub her body burned nearly beyond recognition_...Kate..._dead in that diner...shot through the heart by a sniper's bullet_...

He pulled on his shoes, rounded the bed, heading for the door when he nearly tripped over something in the dark. When he flicked on the light switch, he saw that he had tripped over a pair of woman's boots with a four inch heel, and right next to them, curled up, asleep and shivering on the floor in front of the bedroom door lay Kate Beckett. He could tell by the streaks going down each cheek that she'd been crying. About what, he had no idea.

He knelt down next to her on both knees and ran a finger down the side of her face, the tip of it just barely skimming along her skin in the track made by her tears. He had seen her like this enough to know he didn't like it, not at all. Though he couldn't bear to wake her, he couldn't leave her on the floor either. She deserved so much better, his beloved, wounded Kate. She deserved so much better than an unworthy, broken, empty shell of a lost cause like him. Will Sorenson's harsh words twisted in his heart like an ice cold knife. He couldn't even keep his own ailing daughter alive, how could he possibly _ever_ deserve her?

As he shifted to lift her from the floor, she woke with a start, pushing his hands away. She moved herself to a seated position. The frightened look that had been on her face disappeared when she realized it was him. What he saw instead nearly cut his heart in two...shame.

"Rick..._please_...don't be nice to me...don't let me off the hook...I don't deserve it." she choked out between sobs as fresh tears began rolling down her cheeks.

Rick pulled her to him, completely unable to comply with her request. Because as far as he's concerned she absolutely does deserve every comfort he can provide.

"When I woke up I was desperate to find something...anything...to make Captain Montgomery change his mind, put me back on the case." Kate whispered quietly, her tone chastened, almost defeated, "When it hit me that I still have all of my mom's papers. Everything that was in her law office when she died. We had to move her stuff...and dad was drowning himself in a bottle...so I rented a U-haul and put it all in storage."

"Is that why you're fully dressed?" Rick asked quietly...trying hard, but failing to entirely keep the disappointment out of his voice.

Kate averted her eyes, couldn't bear to meet his, she couldn't bear to see the hurt in his eyes.

"Yes..." she said quietly, her voice still almost a whisper, "I was fully dressed and almost made it out the door when I caught sight of you...and...I couldn't do it...couldn't just walk out and leave you...not even for this...and I hate myself for even considering it."

"Shh, Kate, shh...it's okay...the important thing is that you didn't...no matter how badly you wanted to, you remembered our agreement and you stopped. God, I love you...Kate...thank you for trusting me enough to make yourself stop."

Kate was shocked at his sudden forgiveness grateful that in her moment of weakness of teetering on the ragged edge of the rabbit hole she had not cost herself the one thing she cherished more than her mother's memory. Him.

...

**7:30 AM  
Long term storage facility.**

Rick and Kate were busy rooting through the boxes of documents in the storage locker. Nearly everything from Johanna Beckett's law office was here, right down to the furniture. Kate's frustration was clearly evident as she tossed a banker's box back on the stack of them in a huff. Finding nothing she hadn't chased down years ago leading her nowhere. Rick pulled open a file drawer and found two legal sized manilla envelopes in the empty drawer, which obviously at one time had been taped inside the top of the cabinet.

"Kate!" Rick shouted. "Come look at this!"

"Oh, that...eliminated that a long time ago. Mom had her own system, neither dad nor I could ever figure it out."

"Kate..." Rick breathed, his eyes wide with recognition, "I recognize this! It isn't a lawyer's crazy shorthand, it's a code! One I'd seen Jake use before."

"What?! " Kate's eyes went wide, "Are you sure? "

"Absolutely, Jake made me memorize the cypher." Rick replied in a low whisper, "We need to get back to the loft so i can get these decoded."

Kate's face softened as she recalled her actions earlier that morning with renewed shame. The fact that she would not have found anything even remotely useful had she left him behind was not lost on her. Why he would want anything to do with her after what she had meant to do earlier this morning she would never understand.

God, how she loved this man. He had no idea.

**...**

Meanwhile, Detectives Ryan and Esposito were busy tracking down leads. They had both shown up at an unusually early hour given no bodies had dropped in the precinct on this clear but cold Saturday morning. After going over security camera footage for nearly all of that morning without a break

from the building where the kill shot had come from, they began looking for someone with a briefcase large enough to conceal a broken down sniper rifle who was also out of place somebody who stood out in a sea of people with briefcases.

Suddenly they found it. A woman was "accidentally" knocked over, her key card slipped stealthily from her expensive handbag. He wasn't wearing gloves when he grabbed her arm to help her up. The boys swiftly leaped into action, hoping they could catch the woman before she took a shower...

**...**

Kate sat in the living room of the loft while Rick was in his study working on the encrypted documents from her mother's office. During the hour it had taken to first disable the internet then completely then set up the operating system and hard drive on the tablet Rick had purchased for the purpose, he transferred the decryption protocols from his FBI laptop to the tablet via flash drives then set up she had been hovering, her pacing driving him nuts.

When she realized that standing over him was not helping, she had gone to the kitchen to make lunch. There was nothing else she could do but wait as Rick carefully scanned the documents then transferred the files to the tablet. When that was done, they had to wait and let the decryption protocol he had installed do it's work on documents that had been waiting over decade to be discovered.

The first was a short, terse message from Special Agent Jacob Newstead dated 5/3/1996

**_Remember to encrypt everything to do with this case with encryption key I gave you. These people thought nothing of murdering an FBI Agent. Leave nothing to chance. If anything happens to me, use the dead drop I showed you and get everything into the hands of Richard Webb. Tell no one and trust no one._**

The second message dated 1/1/1997 was more case related.

**_What did you learn from interviewing Pulgotti? _**

**_I'm getting some heat from my superiors over my use of resources. They are beginning get wise to the fact that I'm not working as diligently on the case I'm supposed to be working on. I will shield you as best as I can in my reports, but there's a lot of scuttlebutt about a stubborn, opinionated, female civil rights attorney angling to get Pulgotti acquitted. You are not making friends in FBI circles._**

Kate smiled about that one in spite of herself. That was so very much her mother.

The last missive from Jake was dated the morning of January 9th, 1999. Reading it put a substantial chill in the room.

**_GET OUT...GET OUT NOW!  
Pulling that sealed court file raised a hornet's nest.  
Grab your family and get out of the city! As far and as fast as you can!_**

Kate dropped the third printed note. Her mother would have decrypted that note within hours of her death. She knew in her heart that it was why her mother had called and told them she would meet them at the restaurant instead of herself and dad picking her up at her office like they'd originally planned. Her mom knew she was going to die and had chosen to sacrifice herself to save her family.

The last encrypted file was a letter from her mother addressed to Richard A. Webb also dated 1/9/1999:

**_Richard,_**

**_A long time ago you rescued me from a terrible fate, at the expense of everything you hold dear. You put me through Law School, made sure I was provided for so I would never be forced back onto the streets. I have done my best not to squander the gift of life and a fresh start you gave me. I have a caring, loving husband named Jim who worships the ground I walk on and a beautiful, smart, tough daughter named Katie. Both of whom I love dearly. _**

**_In my desire to fight the good fight and honor the second chance you gave me, I'm afraid that I have gotten in too deep and attracted the attention of someone powerful, awakened a sleeping dragon and filled him with a terrible resolve._**

**_By the time you get this, I will more than likely be dead. I have done everything I could to protect Jim and Katie. I sent everything I uncovered to your man, Jake Newstead via the dead drop (which isn't much, sadly) and destroyed any unencrypted files in my possession._**

**_Please do what you can to protect my family._**

**_As you once sacrificed all to save me, now I must do the same to protect those that I love. My only regrets are the pain this will cause my beloved Jim and that I will never get to see the woman my Katie will become._**

**_Vincit Omnia Veritas_**

**_Johanna Hughes Beckett._**

Kate dropped the letter her mother had written to Richard Webb like it had been on fire. A look of absolute anguish and horror on her face. When Rick tried to reach for her to offer comfort, she batted his hands away angrily.

"No! Get away from me! Don't touch me!" She screamed.

When Rick recoiled from her outburst, she continued her enraged verbal assault.

"You bastard! You work for him! You knew... you knew all along!" She screamed at him and then ran sobbing from the room taking the stairs leading to the second floor two at a time. He heard the door to her room slam shut and the lock snap in place.

Rick stood rooted to the spot, his heart shattering into a million pieces.

"What the hell were you into Jake?" He asked aloud into the abyss. "What did you get me into?"

**...**

Ryan and Esposito had gotten to the woman in time. Though they were incredibly glad to be rid of her after her part was done. Almost understanding why her last boyfriend had faked his own death to get away from her. Ryan had been chatting with her for only an hour and he looked like he'd be willing to chew off his own arm to escape. They ran the print and the system spat out the name Hal Lockwood.

His record was clean...too clean. His credit history only went back two years. A dead giveaway for a fake identity.

They got his recent activity found the hotel reservation and called in backup. It was time to have a chat with Mr. Lockwood.

**….**

Kate sat curled up on the floor of her room in the loft. She knew what she had said in the heat of the moment to Rick had been unfair. She could tell by the haunted, wounded look in his eyes that the contents of those printed pages had been just as much a shock to him as they had been to her. He had told her that the mysterious Richard Webb was not just CIA but the goddamn director of operations. She knew the law. The CIA was forbidden to conduct operations (even counter-intelligence operations) on American soil. It made perfect sense, now that she had calmed down enough to think clearly, it was not surprising that Rick would have been kept in the dark.

Anything Webb had would be inadmissible. Especially if the person he was after was somebody important. He would need an FBI agent to look into it legally. Rick came ready made and almost gift wrapped for plausible deniability.

If Rick had been told anything, any evidence he obtained would be considered fruit of the poisonous tree. If he went too far, or was prematurely discovered, he could be hung out to dry. An unstable agent reeling from a dead daughter and a dead friend out in the cold tilting at windmills.

Just like her.

In her anger over his friend having used her mom and then getting her killed. (something that happened long before Rick knew him) A man who had obviously been in the same tenuous position Rodgers was in now, so she really couldn't bring herself to even hate him, either. She had blamed Rick, pushed him away and hurt him. How could she face him now? After betraying him not just once but twice in the same day?

Kate buried her face in her hands as her tears began anew. Her quiet choking sobs the only sound in the small bedroom.

**...**

Ryan and Esposito searched the hotel suite charged to Hal Lockwood's credit card. On the writing desk they found surveillance photos of Raglan, Beckett and Rodgers. Most dated to the week leading up to Raglan's shooting. Not only taken from the entrance to the precinct but Rodgers' loft as well. Next to them was a sandwich bag filled with little yellow pills.

Ryan called in a few contacts from narcotics division, sent them a cell phone photo of the label on the pills and was given the name of a grad student who supplemented his spending money making designer drugs on the side. He was essentially a smart ass upper class kid who obviously had no idea the forces he was trifling with. After a little bit of convincing from Esposito who did a masterful job putting the fear of God in the little shit they had a first name and a description of the woman who had bought the drugs for Lockwood. Two likely hits came back for a woman named Jolene meeting his description. Ryan and Espo took one, Bristow and Hastings took the other.

Before they split up in the station house, Sydney hugged first Ryan then Esposito, earning a confused look from both detectives. Neither one suspecting that she had slipped CIA issue GPS trackers into both of their wallets. Hastings didn't know it, but there was one in hers, too. Slipped there while she had been in the shower after a sparring session in the gym with her this morning.

The name "Hal Lockwood" was already on Sydney's radar. She had received a full dossier on the man within an hour of Ryan finding the his name. This whole situation smelled like a setup to her, just like in the 3XK case, and this time she was leaving nothing to chance.

**...**

Sydney and Hastings had reached the address of "Jolene #2" as they had dubbed her to find the door broken in and the woman dead from a snapped neck on her living room floor. Her phone call from Ryan had ended with the tell-tale crack of a flash-bang then silence.

**...**

"Rodgers" Rick had not been expecting a phone call. Especially not from Detective Bristow.

"You need to hurry!" she said emphatically, "Ryan and Espo are in trouble and they need your help. I'm texting you the address where they've been taken!"

"Wait, Sydney how do you know this and why not call it in?" He asked, not liking where this was going.

"Ann is doing that as we speak," she replied, "but there isn't time to explain how I know where they are. I can't break cover."

"Break cover? What the fuck?" Now Rodgers was certain he didn't like where this was headed.

"Rick I really was an LAPD detective, but before that I was a CIA operative." Sydney said, with a resigned tone "Webb reactivated me, got me transferred to the 12th to keep an eye on you and back you up if you needed it. If I went to the Captain with what I know there would be too many questions! I can hack Jolene's laptop and get into her cell phone call history to come up with a plausible story later...right now Ryan and Espo need help and I can't leave the crime scene without breaking cover. Please keep this quiet, I'll explain everything later...honest! Right now there just isn't time!"

"We will be having a long conversation when this is over, Bristow. Count on it." Rick said angrily, "Send me the address."

**...**

Kate had just managed to compose herself in front of the mirror on the dresser when she heard a key turning in the lock on her door. She knew Rick (or she thought she did anyway) after a fight like that he would not invade her privacy without good reason. When the door swung open the look on Rick's face was grave.

"Our issues will have to wait, Kate. Get your badge, your gun and your backup piece, somebody grabbed Ryan and Espo. We need to move...now!"

Rick turned on his heel and moved purposefully out the door before she could reach for him. Though he had kept it off his face, she could still see the hurt in his eyes, hurt that she had put there, and it nearly broke her heart.

**...**

Ryan and Espo were roused to full consciousness as black bags were removed from their heads. Almost immediately they were confronted by Hal Lockwood.

"I want to congratulate you both, about how you found my place. But I've been doing this kind of work for a while now and no one's ever come that close to me."

His men were busily pouring ice into a vat of cold water and laying out a set of short wooden rods of varying diameter.

"My problem is that your investigation has gone further than I expected, and now in order for me to finish my job I need to know _exactly_ what you know about me and my employer."

Lockwood stepped closer and looked Esposito right in the eye, then at Ryan. Giving them both a warm smile that was at once both charming and not at all comforting.

"Now I've got a lot of respect for you guys," he paused as he saw them both give him matching dirty looks, "what? I do."

At this point, his expression hardened becoming more imposing.

"Now I'm gonna make you a deal. You tell me what I need to know, one pro to another, and I will put a bullet in your brain. If you don't...if you guys jerk me around...then you will be begging me to before this night is over."

Ryan looked nervously at his partner, who gave him a calming, apologetic look. Both knew that half the precinct was likely out looking for them. All they had to do was hold out long enough to be found. Time was on their side. Esposito nodded at his partner then turned to Lockwood with an expression as cold as ice.

"I think I'll have to go with option B."

"Oh yeah," Ryan added coldly, "we're definitely gonna jerk you around."

Though he was pressed for time and really had more important business to take care of, he really wasn't surprised. He had figured from his bearing that the Hispanic cop was former military, possibly Special Forces like himself. He was trained for this. His partner, however was nearly all Irish bluster. He'd seen it before, having done jobs in Northern Ireland. He knew the younger man was the weak link here. He simply wasn't trained to accept this kind of punishment. His recently healed injuries would also be useful.

"I heard one of the female detectives got a little too frisky in the sparring circle recently. How are your partner's ribs doing lately?"

One of his men picked up one of the thicker rods and hit Ryan square in the chest with the end of it, right on one of his still healing cracked ribs, eliciting a painful grunt from Ryan, forcing all of the air from his lungs before he was shoved face first into the ice cold water and held there.

"You son of a bitch!" Espo shouted as he tried in vain to jump up to help his partner.

Lockwood snapped his fingers and Ryan was pulled back to a seated position. Blood mixed with water was trickling from his nose and from the left corner of his mouth.

"Tell me what I want to know and it all stops." Lockwood said quietly, as if he cared about Ryan's discomfort.

**...**

"Rick...about those things I said earlier..." Kate tried to broach the topic that had been festering between them since they left the loft. They couldn't chance the lights or the siren so Rick had to work his way through traffic, which was slowing them considerably. He hadn't spoken a word, nor even looked in her direction since they got into his Suburban and pulled out of the parking garage. His hurt, angry silence was slowly killing her.

"Rick...please...I'm..." she was interrupted before she could finish.

"I actually am one, you know...a bastard." The coldness of the statement stabbed her in the heart, "I don't even know my father's name."

She mentally berated herself, knowing now that in a fit of irrational anger she had likely said the worst thing she could possibly have said to him, second only to insulting his daughter's memory. She kept quiet for the rest of the drive, her heart a broken, useless thing beating in her chest. Realizing that he had every right to hold onto his anger for a little while longer.

**...**

When Ryan was yanked unceremoniously from the vat of ice cold water...again, after being hit in the ribs (one of which felt like it had broken this last time) by another of the incrementally smaller rods. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he inhaled sharply. Clinically, he knew they were forcing the air out of his lungs on purpose before dunking him. They were using his suffering to twist up Javi...make him talk. He had to hold out...he had to, but he needed to reassure his partner who was obviously hurting for him every bit as much as if they were forcing him under too.

"Listen asshole, I was in Catholic school for twelve years...they used to do this for talking in class..." followed by gurgles as he was forced under again.

"You're _dead_, Lockwood..." Espo said darkly. Hatred for the man burning out of every pore of his being for what he was doing to Ryan. Imagining his hands wrapped around the mercenary's throat, squeezing till the lights went out. More than ever, he understood how Rodgers had felt looking at Reginald Jacobs that day in holding.

"They always start out with bravado," Lockwood said with an almost jovial tone, "the begging comes later. You see this is ice water it burns like hell when it hits his lungs, made worse by his broken ribs, but he wont lose consciousness right away," he raised his voice so Ryan could hear him too, "but all this stops when you _TELL ME HOW MUCH THE COPS KNOW_!"

**...**

Rick and Kate were parked outside the building where Kate was looking at the lone sentry posted outside the door with a night vision eyepiece.

"That guy is gonna spot ESU from a block away, warn Lockwood. If we call in the cavalry Ryan and Espo are dead." Kate said, her voice a quiet nearly desperate whisper. She knew he was still hurt, still angry with her, knew he had every right to be, but for Ryan and Espo's sake, she needed him to be able to put it aside for now.

"I'm open to dumb ideas here." She said.

"Good," Rick replied, "because I've got one."

He was still hurt by what Kate had said earlier. Her words had cut him to the bone for something he didn't do, had neither knowledge or part of, but he also knew he had to get past it...because he loved her. What he had in mind would never work if he didn't...his acting skills were never that good, as his mother constantly reminded him. He would never be any good at undercover work. His skills lay elsewhere.

Rick rose unsteadily out of the black Suburban, Kate stumbling in her high heeled boots as she swayed first away then into him, giggling as she went...a low chuckle emanating from his chest as they stumbled drunkenly toward the sentry as he closed on them to investigate, a dangerous look in his eye.

Kate, a veteran of many undercover stings, leaned her head against his chest and laughed to disguise saying. "He's not buying it..." before turning her back to the man to hide her hand reaching for her gun.

Rick swatted her hand playfully away from the Sig Sauer he had given her then slid his other hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in close. Their eyes met for a split second, surprise registering on her face followed closely by a darker, more passionate expression as she realized what he was going to do just before he pulled her in and laid possibly the most blistering, mind robbing, soul stirring kiss she had ever received from him. (And she'd been kissed by him a lot since that night in the hotel room in L.A.)

When Kate pulled back from Rick to lock eyes with him again, they shared a look between them that would be completely indecipherable to anyone else who saw it, (including the sentry still moving toward them to investigate) but speaking volumes to each other, "I love you" and "I'm sorry" and "I forgive you" passing between them without a word being spoken in the instant before she surged forward and fused her lips to his, answering his unspoken declaration of love with one of her own, their passion for each other reignited in front of the sentry before he whispered "all clear" into his headset.

As the man turned his back to them to walk away, Rick swung Kate by the arm, using all of his strength to add power to her kick as the sturdy four inch heel of her boot connected with the back of the man's head, instantly rendering him unconscious, his neck making a sickening crunch as it connected with a car bumper on its way to the concrete.

They stood there for a moment breathing heavily, both blurted out the first thing that popped into their heads. "That was amazing..."

With the moment past, Kate got back to the business at hand.

"What next, Rick?"

"We hit them hard and fast...no warning and no mercy." Rick replied as he tossed the man's phone and headset into the nearest dumpster. "You hit em from the front to draw them out and I'll flank em and nail the coffin shut."

With that, they drew their handguns and moved for the entrance.

...

One of Lockwood's biggest men was holding Esposito down as once again Ryan's head was being held underwater. He was under much longer this time he could see his friend's legs twitching as he fought to lift his head. He couldn't watch them do this anymore.

"Okay!" He shouted.

Almost instantly the man holding Ryan's head down yanked him out and he painfully sucked in a lungful of air. Blood was leaking from the corners of his eyes as he called out to his partner.

"Don't tell this jack-hole anything!" before he coughed uncontrollably. His lungs felt like they were on fire. His two broken ribs had him in absolute agony, which he fought to hide from both Lockwood and Espo.

"I'm sorry bro, I can't watch this." Espo turned his gaze from his partner to Lockwood, "You're too late. They already know all about...me and your mom!"

In spite of the excruciating pain he was in, Ryan laughed. He knew that Espo had only done this to buy him a couple lung-fulls of air, but dammit it what he said was funny.

Lockwood wasn't laughing however.

"Shoot out one of his kneecaps."

"No!" Espo screamed as the man holding Ryan shoved him onto the floor and pulled his pistol from his waistband.

That was as far as the man got, however, as his chest exploded in a bright pink mist.

Both Espo and Ryan's heads snapped in the direction of the shots to see Kate Beckett converging on them, firing the. 40 caliber Sig Sauer that Rodgers had given her as she moved in. Two more of Lockwood's men dropped dead to the floor. Espo was shoved aside as the mercs returned fire. He slid across the floor and shielded his wounded partner with his own body as Kate and the mercs exchanged fire and she was forced to take cover.

Before either of them could wonder where Rodgers might be, one of the mercs moved on Kate's position while she was reloading and the back of his head promptly exploded from the concussive force of a .40 caliber hollow point round to the face administered by Rick's P-226. Neither of them could see where Lockwood had gone though and the sniper rifle Espo had seen propped up in an armchair was missing.

Beckett was pinned down behind a forklift by his remaining two men as Lockwood leveled his sniper rifle and centered the cross-hairs between her eyes. He slid his finger into the trigger guard and was about to squeeze the trigger when he felt the cold barrel of a large caliber handgun pressed behind his left ear.

"Checkmate, pal." Rodgers said coldly before striking him in the back of the head with the butt of his Glock 30 and moving to provide covering fire for Kate, dropping one of them with a head shot from over 30 meters away.

The last one tossed his weapon aside and surrendered following Kate's instructions to kneel on the floor and lace his fingers behind his head. He covered her while she slapped the cuffs on him. She slid the man roughly face first to the floor then ran to check on Ryan and Espo.

Bedlam once again ensued briefly when ESU burst on the scene as Rick flashed his credentials and took charge of the scene, directing them to take custody of both prisoners, secure the crime scene and get EMS inside to look after the boys. Especially Ryan, he had had a really rough night and it seemed another extended hospital stay was in his future, at least until his broken ribs could be seen to.

…**.**

Later that night, after they had given their statements, been cleared by internal affairs, in this case a dark skinned, intense woman named Lieutenant Gates, they sat inside Rick's Suburban once again, the engine on letting the heater warm them both up from winter's chill. They had learned over an hour ago that Ryan's broken ribs had fortunately not punctured a lung or any other vital organ.

He would be making a full recovery, and was sleeping peacefully with a police detail at his door, Jenny ensconced in a chair next to his bed, with Bristow and Hastings camped out in the waiting room nearby. Lanie would see to Esposito, so she told them to go home and mend fences already, or she would smack both of their heads together.

"Thank you, Rick...for having my back in there." Kate said, finally finding her voice.

Rick looked her in the eye, his hurt and anger had dissipated, leaving only love shining in his eyes as he pressed his forehead against hers and said the only thing he needed to say to let her know all was right in their universe again.

"Always."


	40. Complications

**Chapter Thirty Nine  
****Complications**

Rick had been strangely quiet all day in the loft.

Both himself and Kate were on mandatory leave after their gun battle in the warehouse. Four men were dead, the door gaurd was in critical condition and Lockwood and one of his men were in separate wings in Rikers Island. Javi had been treated for hypothermia and released with Ryan in stable condition having his now broken ribs tended to. He should be out of the hospital in a couple days and cleared for limited desk duty in about a week.

After all of the paperwork was done, Montgomery had sent them both home and told them not to show their faces in the precinct until Tuesday.

Kate knew he wasn't angry at her like he had been last night after her outburst in the living room, she could see that plainly in his eyes and his body language. She knew that he still loved her, he had made that abundantly clear last night after they got home..._four times._ She was still walking funny this morning as a result of four rounds of over-the-top, angry _make-up/dammit-we-could-have-both-been-killed_ monkey-sex. Only the last round of which actually took place in bed.

She had wanted to go to Rikers Island today and confront Lockwood herself, rattle his cage a little and see what shook loose. Wanted to so badly she could taste it, but her partner came first. She had broken her word to him enough times and she knew that needed to stop.

Rick seemed lost in his own melancholy world today and nothing she did, said, or tried seemed to be able to pull him out of the funk he had fallen into. In spite of all the quiet, adoring looks he gave her whenever she touched him, or tried to cheer him up and in spite all of his assurances to the contrary, she couldn't shake the feeling that it was _her_ fault, that _she_ had done this to him. She had rarely seen this widthdrawn, quiet side of him since they had become an item, and never for this long. She had always been able to pull him out of it up until now.

After multiple attempts to draw him out had failed, she finally bit the bullet and called Martha. Rick's mother picked up almost immediately, as if she had been waiting by the phone, desperate for a distraction. She seemed genuinely overjoyed to hear from her, followed by concern at the tone of her hello.

Kate hadn't meant to, it was entirely unlike her, but the moment Martha asked her what was wrong, she started pouring her heart out to the older woman, her filters were almost non-existent and she simply couldn't stop herself. Though she managed to leave out all but the most vague references to the case they had been working on, she told her everything else, including her behavior yesterday. It actually felt strangely...comforting to unburden herself to Rick's mother.

"Oh...honey...it'll be ok..." Martha told her soothingly, "Richard has always been...sensitive about our family situation. Even as a little boy the other boys at school teased him mercilessly about not having a father. As he got older it just got progressively worse, he would get into fights when the boys would call me nasty names. It's why he _still_ doesn't have many close male friends."

Though Kate knew Martha was trying to make her feel better, this information had the opposite effect on her.

"Oh my God..." Kate breathed, positively mortified, tears welling in her eyes, "what have I done?"

"Kate...darling...don't...I'm sure he knows you didn't mean it that way. How could you possibly have known? Just give him some time he'll be fine in a day or so." Martha said soothingly, knowing this would pass, but that Kate needed to hear it from her.

"Are you sure?" Kate asked, sounding nothing like the fearless NYPD detective she was, and more like the lost little girl she felt like at the moment.

"I'm certain of it." Martha replied, trying to give Kate the reassurance her own mother could not. "He loves you, Kate, every bit as much as he loves me and he loved Alexis. No matter how hurt, or angry, or upset my Richard might be, once he lets someone in, once he allows himself to love someone, he loves them...always."

At Kate's continued ragged breathing on the other end of the line, Martha took in a breath and continued.

"_Always_ isn't just a word to him, Kate, or to me either for that matter. _Always_ is _forever_, no matter what."

"Thank you, Martha...you have no idea how much that means to me." Kate replied, wiping away tears she hadn't known had fallen, but feeling greatly reassured.

"A mother knows her child, Katherine...a mother always knows." Martha said knowingly.

"Night Martha." Kate said, a little of her usual confidence restored.

"Until tomorrow, dear one." Martha said cheerfully, glad that the two of them were okay. She had been worried sick since hearing of the gun battle on the news.

Now she could finally get some sleep.

**...**

Sydney Bristow was in her own personal hell.

She had inherited the remaining vestiges of the Raglan homicide investigation. She personally slapped the cuffs on Gary McCallister this morning (who had told her in interrogation that Beckett had _awakened the Dragon_, whatever that meant) but much to Captain Montgomery's dismay, Vulcan Simmons was in the wind. Copies of her reports would be on Director Webb's desk by the end of the day.

She had just been in to see Ryan who had related his version of their ordeal. She was mortified that the injuries she had unintentionally inflicted on him (the full extent of which she had only recently been made aware of) in the exercise room had been exploited by Hal Lockwood to torture him. For him to have known something like that, something she had only recently found out herself, there had to be a mole in the precinct. It was the only thing that made sense.

Esposito had been giving her the cold shoulder since she arrived at the hospital last night, so she realized he was thinking the same thing, only with her topping out the list of suspects. He wasn't entirely wrong, since that is precisely the role she was filling for Director Webb, she just wasn't the mole he was looking for.

Unlike Detective Esposito, however, she was a trained espionage and counter espionage agent. She knew what to look for, and he knew the precinct, what was normal and what wasn't. Between the two of them, she knew they could get this guy, she just had to get Espo to trust her again. She needed someone to intercede with him on her behalf, namely, Detective Beckett and there was only one person who would be able to convince her she was one of the good guys.

The uncomfortable conversation with Agent Rodgers she had been dreading all day could no longer be delayed.

**...**

Martin Danberg was sitting in the visitor's lounge of Rikers Island waiting for the gaurds to bring out Hal Lockwood. He was actually rather surprised that Director Webb had drawn him for this assignment, requested him by name, in fact.

He had been on restricted duty with a significantly reduced security clearance since his partner Sophia Turner had been discovered to be a traitor and been eliminated "Project Archangel Style" as they still called it. Though a show was made for the press of her star being on the wall of heroes, it was an open secret in the company that that was just for show to keep the FBI from poking around.

Nobody seriously believed he had been in collusion with her, especially not Director Webb who was rumored to have dropped the hammer on Sophie himself. Everybody who worked with Webb was in awe of his "hands on" approach. The "old man" as everbody called him certainly had style, that was for sure.

Danberg's musings were cut short, however when the guards brought Lockwood in, the hired assassin cocked an eyebrow in surprise. He had obviously been expecting Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD, not newly minted section chief Martin Danberg, CIA.

"Mr. Lockwood," Danberg began, "my employer would like to make you an offer."


	41. Unexpected Consequences

**Chapter 40  
****Unexpected Consequences**

Senator William Bracken was fuming when he got the message that his father's old war buddy had tried to flip Lockwood. He had thought he had the man handled nearly ten years ago as a junior senator when he led the charge to have Webb's beloved Project Archangel shut down as an _unnecessary relic of cold war governmental waste and paranoia. _ He had nearly cinched his landslide re-election the following year for "looking out for the little guy." by removing such a massive "boondoggle expenditure".

He had arranged for him to be appointed as the Director of Operations of the CIA through his father's contacts in the White House, and fast tracked him through the confirmation hearings to further bury the man in red tape and bureaucracy, as the CIA was forbidden from operating domestically. If even _half_ of the stories dad had told him about the man were true, letting him completely off the leash of government service would have made him _more_ dangerous, not less. The man knew where enough bodies were buried to burn down half of Washington DC's power brokers and they knew it.

It would seem that in spite of his machinations, Webb had merely gone gone around the red tape, using several FBI proxies. The most recent being his estranged son. (information that even his own _father_ was unaware he had) His father had told him that the man was persistent, he was beginning to realize just how much. He had thought killing Agent Newstead and staging it to look like a suicide to discredit him would get the point across. He had obviously not sent a clear enough message.

It would seem that another example would have to be made.

He would make this country safe and secure again, a place where tragedies like the one that befell his childhood friend and his family would not have to happen. Those who had become collateral damage in his quest, like Robert Armen, Jake Newstead and Johanna Beckett would not be forgotten. Their sacrifices for the greater good would not be in vain. If a monster is what was required then a monster...a _dragon_...is what he would be.

In the end, history would exonerate him, the ends would _one day_ justify the means.

….

**January 9th 2011**  
**11:00 AM**

For the first time in the two years they had known each other, The Rodgers and Beckett families came to the small cemetery to mark this pivotal day for both families together. Suddenly Rick's melancholy the other day made perfect sense, though Martha had been correct, once Rick had had time collect himself, he had shaken it off enough to arrange this family outing on a day marked by sadness for all of them.

Even a quiet, subdued Meredith, fresh out of rehab, had made the trip. Jim Beckett had taken her under his wing, so to speak, to sponsor her at his AA chapter. Martha liked this new, less abrasively self centered Meredith and had hired her on as an acting coach at her school to help her keep busy, though her agent had gotten her an audition with the producers of Temptation Lane, so she was gradually beginning to get her own life back, too.

Kate remembered the first time she had seen Rick here. Standing in this very spot two years ago today, her frustration over his intrusion into her life had given way to feelings of empathy for a man suffering a loss no parent should ever have to endure. When she had first seen the caring, sensitive man he was under the cold, hard exterior he presented to the world to protect his soft heart and keep his own demons at bay.

She had come to realize over the past two years that she had found not just a partner, not just a friend and a lover, but a soul mate as well. Through shared grief and a common goal, they had torn down each others walls and between the two of them they were learning to live again. All of a sudden it occurred to her that a life without her mother's case hanging over her head didn't seem quite so daunting a prospect anymore, now that she didn't have to face it alone.

…**.**

**The following day**

The conversation with Agent Rodgers and Detective Beckett had been every bit as awkward and difficult for Sydney Bristow as she had expected it to be, and in some ways was even more so. Both of them had asked her some very pointed and difficult questions, and she answered every single one. The only piece of information she kept to herself was the fact that Richard Webb was Rick's father, which she figured was not her story to tell. Director Webb would reveal the true nature of their relationship with him when he was ready. It simply wasn't her place.

Though Sydney doubted at this point that she and Detective Beckett would ever be close friends when she left the loft, at least she wasn't getting the resentful, angry glare that Beckett had been leveling on her when she first showed up at their door. Agent Rodgers had filled her in on recent events, how she had found out about Director Webb's connection to her mother's case and she understood her feelings. (she had had a similar reaction when she had found out her own mother was a KGB agent who had tried at least once to kill her) Kate had agreed to intercede with Javi on her behalf when she went back to work in the morning and that was the best she could hope for.

Her friendship with the boys meant _everything_ to her, they were like the brothers she never had in the terminally broken Bristow household. Losing that would have been one blow too many for her to take. She hoped that she had conveyed that adequately to Detective Beckett, who obviously felt exactly the same way about them that she did. Javi looking at her like _**she**_ was the enemy, a Judas in their midst, had just about killed her.

She was gonna find that piece of shit that helped Lockwood hurt Kevin and when she did, there would be a _reckoning_. When she was done, the little bastard was gonna wish his _grandparents_ had never been born.

**...**

When Rick and Kate woke up the next morning, it was like a heavy weight had been lifted off of their shoulders. The extended family outing to the cemetery on Sunday, and the meeting with Sydney yesterday were tremendous cathartic moments for the two of them, both in their relationship with each other and the expanding scope of her mother's and his friend's murder investigation.

This thing was bigger that either of them had ever imagined, and it was gratifying to know that they had at least one ally in the halls of power. Even if Kate despised the man personally for what he had allowed to happen to her mother, he was a necessary evil to take down the true architect of it all. She could accept anything, as long as this man was by her side.

Her thoughts were brought to a sudden halt as an explosion lifted the back end of Rick's SUV from the pavement, then slammed it back down and the passenger compartment was filled with shrapnel. Time had slowed, and her ears were ringing...she could hear gunfire outside the vehicle...automatic weapons. Rick seemed to be in a daze, the airbags had deployed, sparing him a flailed chest from the steering wheel, but there was blood dripping from his ears and his eyes seemed to be dull.

"Rick!" she called out to him, after she had screamed his name twice more, he turned to her as if his head was suspended in jello. She cut his seat belt with the knife she had in her pocket, kicked the passenger door open, dragged him across the center console and into a seated position next to the destroyed SUV. As she turned his head, she saw the gash on the right side of his scalp and immediately went into panic mode.

"Artillery...drawer under...passenger seat" Rick groaned dully handing her the key ring slick with his own blood to unlock it.

She pulled out the unfamiliar weapon from the drawer. An FN P-90. She had recognized it from watching an episode or two of Stargate SG-1 but had never handled one before. Rick fumbled for it with his hands and she passed the weapon to him. Almost by muscle memory he slapped home the clear plastic magazine and pulled the charging lever.

"Holds...fifty rounds...point and shoot...just like on TV..."

His eyes drifted shut, but Kate shook him to keep him awake as she called in their location and situation. She leveled the P-90 in the direction of a muzzle flash and cut loose a burst of automatic weapons fire...

…**.**

That same moment, at his desk in the CIA's NY field office, Richard Webb was opening a package that had passed all of the screening protocols in place to protect a man of his station. In it was a test tube containing a blood sample dated 10 January, 2002 and a 4x6 index card. The note read:

_**Your granddaughter's death was NOT an accident.  
Your SON's won't be either if you don't back off.  
You have been warned.**_

**The Dragon**

Richard Webb stared at the note his eyes focusing on every word, as a cold rage began to heat up inside of him. Someone had done this to his boy...on purpose...to get to him. Tears welled in his eyes as grief warred silently with rage. In the end rage won out. Whomever this "Dragon" was, he had fatally miscalculated, a mistake of epic proportions. This person obviously did not know him very well. If this had not been personal before, if was certainly personal now.

War had been declared.

…**.**

The wail of the siren inside the ambulance cut through Kate's heart like a knife as she held her partner's hand in a death grip. For the second time in nearly a week Rick had been injured right in front of her, this time severely. His scalp had been grazed by a piece of shrapnel from the explosion. Though it hadn't done any permanent damage, the blast had left him with a concussion and he had lost a lot of blood.

Just when she thought the men who had attacked them were going to finish them off, they disappeared as if they had never been there, even going so far as to haul off the bodies of the two she knew she had killed with Rick's P-90. Her mind was racing...she was still in shock, but something about the attack on them seemed...wrong...their attackers had every advantage, they could have pressed their attack and finished them, but they didn't? Why?

Something didn't add up.

….

Javi and Sydney were in charge of the scene, though the body language between them was tense, mostly because Javi didn't trust her. Sydney knew they would have to work this out if they were going to work together to solve this one, as Ann Hastings was at 1PP taking the exam for her gold shield and Kevin, who had insisted on coming back early to help, was on enforced desk duty. With both of their partners sidelined for the immediate future, they were going to have to sort this out and work together to work this one.

Open war had been declared on the 12th Precinct and personal issues would have to be set aside to circle the wagons.


	42. Come Back To Me

I cannot fathom the depravity required to murder a single child, much less the cold blooded murder of 20 children. Please pray for the victims of Sandy Hook, and remember the bravery of Victoria Soto who died that the children in her care might live. Honor the fallen.

* * *

**Chapter 41  
****Come Back To Me**

11:30 PM  
Cedar Sinai Hospital

Rick was still unconscious, but thankfully not comatose. Though his wounds were not terribly severe, the worst of which were the crease in his scalp and the mild concussion, he had lost a lot of blood, something that worried Kate greatly. He had faded so quickly after the attack that it frightened her. The attending in the ER (who had served in Iraq) told her how lucky they both were that the anti-personnel mine that had been used had exploded under the back quarter of the vehicle. (just behind the rear wheels)

The cargo compartment, back seats, undercarriage and the bullet resistant polymer panel dividing the front seats from the back passenger compartment had taken the brunt of the concussive force and shrapnel. (the last had been a mandatory retrofit after the abduction of Agent Shaw last year) Kate's small frame and the large seats had shielded her from most of the effects of the explosion, leaving her with little more than ringing ears and a nosebleed, but Rick had not been so lucky.

He had no internal injuries (which was a blessing in itself) so they sitched him up, gave him three units of plasma to cover the blood loss and made him as comfortable as possible. The rest, the doctor said, was up to him. He encouraged Kate to talk to him, but otherwise chose to leave them alone.

The thought that they would have both been killed instantly had they taken her Crown Victoria, (like she had been insisting on all morning) chilled her blood. She had very nearly convinced him to sign their own death warrants.

As soon as the doctor had left and the door closed behind him, Kate's veneer of composure fell swiftly apart. With tears streaming down her face, she tried to talk to him but the words died in her throat. She took his right hand in both of her smaller ones and kissed it softly, the only sounds in the room being the whirring of the climate control and her quiet choking sobs.

...

**1:30 AM**

The elevator doors parted to admit an older man in formal attire covered by a lab coat with all of the appropriate ID badges for this wing of the hospital. Moving with a smooth fluid grace which belied his advanced age, he breezed noiselessly past Jenny who was sound asleep with Ryan's head cradled in her lap, also sleeping as soundly as his healing, taped up ribs would allow.

As he entered his son's hospital room, Richard Webb surveyed the scene before him with a crestfallen, contemplative expression. Martha was curled up on the couch in the semi-private room, her face slack with sleep causing his heart to skip a beat. His son lay sleeping peacefully enough, with a woman who could only be Kate Beckett, her head and shoulders draped across his chest, her hair flared out around her in a riot of curls. Judging by the streaks in her makeup she had likely cried herself to sleep.

At one point she had been covered by a blanket, but it had slipped aside. Without conscious thought, he reached down and draped it back over her, gently tucking it around her to keep it from falling away again. He moved around the bed to his son's left shoulder, brushed aside a lock of his hair and kissed his forehead.

"Rest easy, son, I'm gonna get the people who did this if it's the last thing I do, just get better for the people who need you and leave the rest to me." He whispered into his son's ear. "Alexis will be avenged."

He was startled slightly when he heard Martha's sleep addled voice from the couch as she began to stir.

"Who will be avenged, Richard?"

Webb recovered quickly, he had hoped to be in and out without waking anyone.

"I should probably go.." he said, turning toward the door.

"Not so fast, Richard." Martha whispered, "who will be avenged?"

"Not here." Webb whispered, as he slipped quietly out of the room and she followed. They walked a short distance from the waiting room, unwilling to risk disturbing the still sleeping forms of Kevin and Jenny, they found a small lounge down the hall.

He showed her the note he had received and told her about the test tube containing the blood sample drawn from Alexis after she died, taken for a toxicology screen that had, up until now, never been run.

When Martha finished reading the note, her eyes widened in horror.

He told her about Alexis' blood sample containing a massive overdose of a powerful muscle relaxant that was in no way meant for children under ten, likely time released, most likely introduced into her bloodstream along with her last dose of chemo. Once released it would have effectively shut down nearly every muscle in her body, including her heart. She would have been dead within seconds of release.

Though no one had discovered it at the time, Alexis Castle had indeed been murdered.

As Webb finished relating to her the report from his toxicology lab, Martha's expression shifted from horror to an anger bordering on hatred.

"Why would somebody want to kill a sick little girl?" she asked, unable to fathom such evil.

"First you need some background, Martha." Rick said quietly.

"Back in 1991 an undercover FBI Agent named Robert Armen was murdered in Washington Heights. A major part of my job at the time was intelligence asset oversight, searching for sleeper agents, double agents and such. People the FBI couldn't possibly deal with in their law enforcement capacity anyway. Armen was working for me at the time of his death."

Rick paused, waiting for Martha to process what he'd said and she motioned for him to continue.

"Eight years later, his former partner, Jake Newstead and Kate's mother, Johanna were doing the legwork, covertly investigating Armen's death for me. By then, the group I headed had been disbanded, and as Director of Operations of the CIA, I could no longer look into it openly."

He paused at Martha's shocked expression, but she motioned for him to continue.

"When Johanna was killed in Washington Heights shortly thereafter, Newstead went off the grid. Apparently,_ I_ had been digging into this a little too closely for somebody's liking as well. They must have learned about Rick somehow and used his anguish over Alexis as a distraction. Alexis' death nearly destroyed our son, Martha, I dropped everything to help him, it was the least I could have done after abandoning you both. Which apparently was what they had intended all along."

"Do you plan on telling him about this, Richard?" Martha asked him.

"No," Webb replied, a dark look in his eyes, "he's only just getting his life back together, telling him now would only serve to cause him more pain. I don't think either of us wants him turn into what I became after what happened to my sister. _I'll_ deal with the people who did this to our son..._my _way."

"Do I want to know what _"your" _way entails?" Martha asked, silently agreeing with his reasoning.

"The less you know the better, Martha, but I _will_ find them, and there _will _be a reckoning." Webb replied with a tone of finality which was all the confirmation Martha Rodgers needed.

Martha gently brushed her left hand across his sternum, steely resolve forming in her blue eyes, the angry, fiercely protective mama bear in her rising to the surface.

"Just get them, Richard." her eyes seething with a rage none knew she was capable of, "I don't care what you have to do, just get them."

...

**8:45 AM**

The first thing that Richard Rodgers noticed as he began to rise toward consciousness was a weight pressed into his chest. It wasn't constricting his breathing at all, so it did not worry him much. As a matter of fact it felt...familiar somehow. The second thing he noticed was the faint scent of vanilla and cherries...Kate...yes...the weight on his chest smelled like Kate.

The next was a splitting headache. He tried to move his right arm to his head but it was pinned in place so he moved his left to the bridge of his nose instead. He tentatively opened one eye then the other, revealing the reason for his lack of mobility. Kate's upper body was draped across his chest, covering his right arm, her hair cascading around her in a riot of curls.

He carefully reached out his left hand, brushed a lock of hair away from her face and kissed her tenderly on top of her head. In spite of the major headache camping out behind his eyeballs he felt happy to be alive. He began to shift position, trying to work his right arm free to restore some sensation which caused Kate to stir.

When her head lifted from his chest, first she felt the kink in her back...not knowing when she had fallen asleep sitting over him.

"Huh...wha...RICK!" she shuddered to nearly full awareness when she looked up and saw his blue eyes open and regarding her. She peppered his face with kisses before he could manage to utter a syllable.

"When you faded at the scene I thought I'd lost you." she whispered breathlessly as fresh tears began to slide down her cheeks.

"No...never.." Rick whispered as he scooted over and tugged her onto the bed with him. Kate hissed in his ear as her back straightened out and protested the sudden movement, but she didn't resist him and eagerly settled beside him and into his embrace.

Rick gently pulled Kate's head to his chest with his still tingling right arm as if to prove to her that his heart was still beating, that he was still here. It was what Kate needed in that moment, just to be able to hear his heartbeat, to feel his breath upon her skin. For the first time since the previous morning she felt whole.

Kate closed her eyes and her breathing evened out as she slipped once again into dreamland with his arms wrapped around her, safe in the knowledge that he had come back to her.

…**. **

When Martha walked back into the hospital room, having stepped out for the first time since returning from her conversation with Rick's father, a cup of hot tea warming her hands, she surveyed the scene before her. She picked up the blanket that had fallen into the chair that Kate had been occupying when she left and draped it over the two of them.

After placing a soft kiss on top of each of their heads, she quietly crept out of the room, sending a brief text message to let him know that his son had awakened briefly and was in good hands.


	43. Interlude

**Chapter Forty Two  
****Interlude**

Kate Beckett sat at her desk at the 12th, doing her best to catch up on her paperwork from the last few cases but her heart really wasn't in it. Her eyes were constantly being drawn to the desk across from hers, the empty chair pushed up to it, his aging laptop folded closed on the desk next to the smiling photo of Alexis in it's black frame. Her heart was with her partner, in his hospital bed being fawned over by his mother. Where, in her heart, she knew she should be too.

He was being discharged tomorrow afternoon, and had insisted that she come into the precinct today and talk to Espo about Sydney. Find out if any progress about the attack on them had been made. She had tried, but every time, she either fumbled her words, or his phone would ring and he would be off like a shot.

The tension between Espo and Sydney was so thick Kate could almost cut it with a knife.

Sydney would try to be pleasant and he would shut her down. She would back off and he would invade her personal space to make sure she wasn't "spying on anyone." Kate could tell this was starting to fray on Sydney's nerves. When she got up to go to the break room, coffee cup in hand and Javi moved to follow her, she finally snapped.

"Jesus Christ, Javi, you gonna follow me to the ladies room too?"

Espo grumbled something in Spanish and suddenly Sydney was no longer playing nice.

"I speak Spanish, Espo...probably better than you do, given your penchant for curse words and derogatory female references. Give me a fucking break!"

"Or what? " Espo retorted, "I end up like my boy Ryan?"

By the stricken, crestfallen look on Sydney's face, Kate could tell that he had very harshly struck a raw nerve. She might not like Sydney very much right now either, but enough was quite simply enough. She rose from her desk and fixed Espo with her sternest death glare.

"Sydney! Javi! Break room..._NOW_!"

Sydney turned obediently toward the break room almost immediately, but when Javi stiffened as if to protest she snagged his ear and yanked causing him to yelp loudly.

"What was that, _Detective _Esposito?" Kate said sharply, "That certainly didn't sound like a _'Yes Beckett'_ to me!"

"Okay...Okay..." Javi hissed, caressing his right ear, "I'm going, I'm going...sheesh."

After the two of them followed Sydney into the break room, Kate snapped the door shut and dropped the blinds.

"Rodgers gave me some idea what this was all about, but I've seen just about enough out of the two of you!"

"But she's the..." Esposito began, but Kate cut him off angrily.

"Espo if it wasn't for her, Rick and I would have _never_ gotten to you and Ryan in time! Had it not been for her quick thinking and initiative, by the time we found the two of you, both of you would have been _dead!_ She isn't the mole, she didn't rat you out to Lockwood, as a matter of fact she's the _**only**_ reason the two of you aren't being...aren't being...buried in...flag draped coffins! So stop it.. Javi...just.._stop it_!"

Kate hadn't realized just how close to the surface her emotions were, until she saw Espo's expression soften noticeably in concern. She hadn't realized that a single tear had broken loose and run down her face. Her close call the other day...almost losing Rick...had mucked up all of her walls and filters, leaving her an emotional mess.

She turned on her heel and fled, ending up in the ladies room. She locked the door, shrugged out of her leather jacket, and threw her badge and her gun on top of it as she broke down. Everything she had been holding back since the attack the other day came flooding over her at once all of the fear and anguish and pain she felt hitting her in unending waves, as she slid down the wall til she was sitting on the floor.

There was an urgent pounding on the door...it had to be Espo.

"Beckett!" she could hear him shouting, but she didn't care, he wasn't the one she wanted, "Beckett! I know I'm the last person you wanna talk to right now, but I called Lanie. Sydney and I are just gonna wait here by the door till she gets here, okay?"

Unbeknownst to Kate, Captain Montgomery was also on the other side of the door. He had heard the commotion in the break room and had come out to investigate. He was a decent enough human being to know she didn't need him to pile on right now, so instead he turned to Espo and stated solemnly,

"Tell Lanie when she gets here to take her home, I shouldn't have let her come in today. I should have sent her home as soon as she got here." When Espo nodded his assent, he continued, "Let her know that she's on medical leave until further notice."

With that, he returned to his office, feeling a mixture of sympathy and guilt for not noticing she was in crisis sooner.

….

By the time Lanie arrived, Kate was back on her feet and cleaning herself up in the sink, badge and gun back in their customary places, doing her best to compose herself and set her walls back in place. She couldn't believe she had fallen apart like that in the precinct, hadn't realized how badly those feelings needed to be aired.

She had been trying to steel herself to take care of Rick, to be the rock that he needed and was ashamed of herself for not being up to the task. She nearly jumped out of her four inch heels when she heard the quiet knock on the door.

"Kate...honey...it's Lanie. Please let me in."

When she unlocked the door to the ladies room, she was nearly tackled by Lanie, who shoved her back into the bathroom and locked the door again.

"You okay? Did something happen to Rodgers? Javi said you were reading him the riot act, then ran out crying...you _never_ do that...what's wrong?" Lanie asked, her face awash with concern for her friend.

"Nothing, Lanie, he's doing okay, really...I don't know what came over me out there. One minute I was giving Espo hell for being an ass to Bristow...and the next I'm in here completely losing it." Kate replied, her inner turmoil still plain on her face.

"What's wrong with me, Lanie? I don't fall apart like this, at least not not here in the precinct." Kate responded, nearly as upset about her lack of self control as she was about the man she loved lying wounded and alone in a hospital bed.

"Welcome to the human race, Kate Beckett. It sounds to me like a case of you being _here_ when you'd _rather_ be at the hospital taking care of your man." Lanie replied, gently pushing an errant lock of hair behind Kate's ear before unlocking the door and taking her arm to lead her out,

"Come on, the Captain said you're on sick leave till further notice. He told me to take you home, but in my _medical_ opinion, I think you'd rather go to the hospital and be with Fed boy."

Kate nodded as she grabbed her purse from her desk and they headed for the elevator. The first genuine smile on her face all day warming her features.

….

Javier Esposito spent the whole rest of the afternoon feeling like an absolute horse's ass. He had been unloading all of his frustrations onto Sydney, assumed she had been the mole who had given Lockwood information to torture his partner with, when in truth she had actually saved both of their lives. She deserved a goddamn medal and he'd spent the better part of a week treating her like dirt.

That it had taken Beckett falling apart in the precinct to finally make him see it, made him feel even worse about himself. Ryan had tried to tell him days ago that he was out of line, but he didn't want to see it. He got the idea that she was the mole into his head and that was it, not a second thought. She had deserved better.

When five o'clock rolled around he decided he needed to do something about that.

"Bristow...get your coat."

"What now, Espo?" Sydney asked testily, still a little angry over the crack about Ryan.

"We're going to 'The Old Haunt', I owe you one _hell_ of an apology, so I'm buying." Espo said, an honest look of contrition on his face. That earned him a weak smile from Sydney, as she got up and reached for her coat.

He had quite a bit of fence mending to do.


	44. The Gathering Storm

**Chapter Forty Three  
****The Gathering Storm**

Michael Smith was sitting at his writing desk preparing his usual correspondence when his phone chirped with an in coming text message. He smiled for a moment when he saw that it was from Roy Montgomery. He had saved his sister from being attacked in an alley almost twenty years ago, beat the man nearly to death he recalled. When he'd tried to thank him for what he had done, he had demurred. "Paying penance" he had called it.

Whatever misdeeds he may have committed, paled before some of the ones his friend Richard Webb could claim, but he saw similarities between the two. A similarity in character, in honor. A willingness to go to the wall for what they believed in. He was somewhat less happy when he opened the message.

**_Mike,  
Need to ask a favor  
Meet me in the parking garage  
of the Waldorf, lowest tier  
Come alone._**

He hadn't had to respond to a message like this since his Project Archangel days, but he was ready nonetheless. He reached into the top left hand drawer of his desk and pulled out the tactical Sig Sauer he kept there, slapped home a magazine and chambered a round. He may be going to meet a friend, but something about the nature of the message had his "combat senses" tingling. That voice in the back of his head that told him something was off. That sense had saved his life on numerous occasions and he would be a fool to ignore it now. He sent reply:

**_Roy,_**

**_6:00 PM_**

….

Waldorf Hotel parking garage

6:00 PM

When Michael Smith walked up to his old friend Roy Montgomery with his hand out, and a smile on his face, he could tell this wasn't going to be a social call. He still took his hand and exchanged a few pleasantries, however. But then his face became more solemn, as he produced a package from out of his jacket.

"Remember when I told you that what I did for your sister was "paying penance?" Roy asked.

"Yes, I remember." Smith replied, "Why do you ask?"

"Because the time is coming when I may be required to pay the piper in full for some of the shit I've done. For what I've allowed to go on." Roy told him darkly.

"What do you mean Roy?" Smith asked, "What's wrong."

"Nothing you can do anything about, Mike, but I have a favor to ask. It will square everything between us."

"Roy you saved the life of my only sister, nothing will ever square that." Smith replied, he didn't like where this conversation was going. Back in 'Nam when somebody started talking about squaring up debts it usually meant they didn't think they'd be among the living much longer.

"This might." Roy continued, "I need you to hold onto these for me, I know you know some pretty well connected people yourself."

Michael Smith thought on that for a moment, the scariest, most powerful guy he knew was Richard Webb. Even with Project Archangel a faded memory, people in and out of the intelligence field were scared shitless of him.

"Some of my old sins are coming home to roost, Mike." Montgomery continued, "If anything happens to me, If this thing gets me killed, I want you to get these to somebody who can use them to protect one of my people, she's neck deep in something she can't possibly grasp the depth of. I can't let what happened to her mother happen to her. If I get myself killed, use what's in this to burn the son of a bitch before he can hurt anyone else."

Smith took the package that Montgomery gave him with a heavy heart. Sometimes he hated being right about things like this. His friend was getting his affairs in order, he wouldn't be surprised to learn he had updated his will, his life insurance policies and prepared letters for everyone in his life.

He could tell by the shrouded look on his old friend's face that he was preparing himself for death.

….

Sydney Bristow and Javier Esposito had commandeered the conference room and locked the door. After she had swept the room for listening devices and Javi had secured all of the windows and pulled down the drapes the two of then sat down to work.

First they noted everyone who had been present for her sparring session with Kevin, how many had stayed after Javi had helped him out of the room. That seemed to be a bust so they moved on to people who had been in Lanie's morgue when Javi and Kevin had arrived, how many may have noted his injuries or retrieved supplies for her as she worked on him.

Somebody in OCME seemed to be the most likely suspect as they would not be directly involved at the precinct, Javi knew his girl, she would not be happy to find out that not only was her morgue compromised, but that one of her people had been responsible for helping Lockwood torture Kevin.

He had seen the way her dark skin had paled when she read his chart, what had been intentionally inflicted on him, wounds that she herself had taped up only days before exacerbated with deliberate force. Then the anger he had seen well up in her immediately after.

No, Lanie was seriously NOT going to be happy at all.

….

Kate helped keep Rick steady as they carefully stepped into the loft. He had nearly fallen three times between getting out of her Crown Victoria and the front door. The doctors had told her that the dizzy spells he was having were perfectly normal, and would pass in a few days as his normal equilibrium reasserted itself. He was otherwise moving under his own power which was cause enough for her to be happy.

She had been a nervous wreck the entire drive from the hospital to the loft's underground parking garage. She avoided any direct routes, which had added extra time to their drive, which had only added to her anxiety level, which didn't lessen until they were out of that damn car and safely ensconced in the loft. When the locks were all secured, she finally let out a breath and her muscles began to relax.

She would never feel safe in the Crown Victoria again, not since the attack. She could not let go of the fact that, had they not been been in his modified Suburban, the venerable Crown Vic would have been their flaming coffin. She would be putting in the request forms for one of the newer pursuit cars when she got back to work.

"You okay?" Rick asked her, concern for her written all over his face.

"Am I okay?" Kate simply could not believe this man, "You were nearly...were nearly...k-killed...and you ask if I'm o-okay?"

She nearly burst into tears as he rose on unsteady feet, trying to reach her...faltering as vertigo struck him, but he stumbled forward anyway, not caring if he fell. She closed the final feet between them in seconds, burying herself in his embrace.

"I'm so glad you're okay." she breathed into his neck.

….

**Three weeks later**  
**New York City Federal building**  
**Shooting range 1:30 PM**

Special Agent Richard Rodgers stood alone in the FBI field office shooting range. The booming report from his .40 caliber Sig Sauer echoed through the place as he emptied first one clip reloaded, then another into the center of the X ring of a target silhouette at the farthest reaches of the range.

It had taken nearly the entire first week of his convalescence in the loft to get his equilibrium back, so he could simply walk unassisted around the loft. That first week had been frustrating as hell to him. It had been Kate's patient guidance and steady hand that kept him going, kept him working through it. She kept him going, kept him pushing himself to get up and try again, until finally the dizzy spells and vertigo diminished and then finally went away completely.

Once he was able to walk, she slowly urged him to jog, and then to run. Always choosing the sexiest running shorts she could find to keep him motivated. Remind him what else he was fighting for. She used every sexy, dirty trick she could think of to keep him motivated on their runs through central park, and it was working. Soon he wasn't following, he was pacing her, and shortly after that he was setting the pace his relentless drive returning in full force.

The first time he had walked into this range he had been frustrated as hell. His shooting was all over the place. He was hitting the targets, no question, but with nowhere near the accuracy he had before. Once again, Kate was there, urging him to relax, to work on his sight picture, through her gentle touch and calming voice. Within a matter of days, he was once again putting all of his groupings tightly in the X ring.

Now for the fun part. He had pulled back and replaced the used paper target with a new one and handed it off to the range master. It would stand as the official record for his re-certification with his service weapon. He reached into the gun case and pulled out his FN P-90. Loaded the fresh magazine and pulled back on the charging lever.

Beckoning Kate over to join him, he rippled off two three round bursts at the target. Getting a feel for his preferred artillery, before ripping off a full burst at full auto, completely destroying the small paper target. When the magazine was empty he handed the weapon to Kate and said.

"Your turn."

"Rick...I couldn't..." she tried to demur, but he was having none of it.

"Come on, Kate, you helped me through the hard part, the least I can do is let you share in the fun"

"But guns are serious business." Kate replied.

"Of course they are," Rick replied, "but here at the range it's also a good way to let off steam, consider it practice if you like, just in case you ever have to handle her in the field again."

When Kate nodded finally, Rick handed her a full magazine, and showed her how to switch out the mags. When she pulled back the charging lever he pointed at the target.

"Start with a few three shot bursts to get a feel for it, then squeeze off a burst at full auto."

The smile of satisfaction that broke out on her face when she tore the paper target in half made his heart flip in his chest. He knew as soon as he signed his weapons back out, she had been apprehensive about the P-90. She had been forced to use it in the most dire of circumstances when he had been disabled. He wanted Kate not to feel shy or hesitant in case she ever needed to use it again. That kind of hesitation could get her killed, and he didn't want that.

"I should get the official word tomorrow morning, but now that I have fully re-certified, I think some celebrating is in order, _Detective_ Beckett" Rick said, with a seductive tone, brushing his hand along the outside of her hip.

"And what kind of 'celebrating' did you have in mind, _Special Agent_ Rodgers?" Kate purred with a sexy smirk on her face.

"Well..." Rick replied as he tugged Kate in for a kiss, "you'll just have to come back to the loft with me and find out."

With that he laid a soul stirring, mind numbing kiss on Kate's full lips which robbed her of the capacity to think clearly. When they both finally came up for air, Kate replied in a sexy seductive purr that left no room for doubt where these _private certifications_ will be taking place.

"I guess we'll just have to see if you really are fully cleared for _active_ duty then, won't we?"


	45. Once More Into the Breech

**Chapter Forty Four  
****Once More Into the Breech**

**North Manhattan Storage**

Richard Rodgers found himself being dragged toward a zippered enclosure by two men in heavy HAZMAT gear. They had been working the case of a dead cabbie on his first day back from medical leave. The high levels of radiation in the one crate in the storage locker had set off both of their radiation badges. He knew things were bad, he just didn't know how bad since he and Kate were dragged off in separate directions.

The enclosure was unzipped enough to admit him, he was unceremoniously shoved inside and it was zipped closed behind him before he could get his equilibrium back. His reaction time was still a bit slow from the concussion, something he had been trying to hide. Kate fussed over him enough as it is.

"Just tell me how bad it is!" He shouted at the other side of the enclosure.

He had been trained for this scenario at Quantico, (as the victim, the tangos, and one of the guys in the HAZMAT suits) but it still rattled him a bit, now that it was for real. He had hunted down terrorists before, but it was different when it was happening in the city where he and all that was left of his family lived, standing next to the woman he loved. It just..._was_.

In that instant he heard someone take a ragged breath behind him, he turned quickly, his right hand brushing his empty holster. His brain reminding him that disarming the subjects was standard procedure. It was Kate. He relaxed a moment until her expression filtered into his brain. She had been in here...alone...for God only knows how long and the look she was giving him was of barely restrained panic.

A moment later whatever spell had held her in place was gone and she crossed the concrete floor in her impossibly high heeled boots and practically launched herself into his arms. His shock wore off as he wrapped his arms around her, the top of her head easily finding it's natural place under his chin.

"When they took you away...I thought...I..." she began.

"It'll be okay," Rick whispered soothingly, "this is all standard procedure. I trained for this very scenario a few times at Quantico."

"It's a lot scarier when it's real and we're the ones being dragged into isolation." Kate said, her sudden panic lifted now that she knew he was okay.

"Yeah, Kate, it is." Rick replied quietly gently planting a kiss on top of her head.

Rick understood Kate's feelings perfectly well. The two of them were doers, people of action, results driven and goal oriented individuals. It wasn't easy for hard chargers like themselves to suddenly be the ones who were shoved in a room and kept in the dark. Forced to cool their heels while others decided their fate. Their unspoken consensus that neither of them liked it very much was transmitted between them through eye contact and touch alone.

**Meanwhile, back at the 12th Precinct**

Montgomery didn't like that his people had been dosed with radiation while chasing down a lead on a murder investigation. He didn't like it one tiny little bit, as he personally took charge of the situation. Kate Beckett was one of his best, he'd had his reservations about Agent Rodgers at first, but he challenged her to be better both as a detective and as a human being. When the time came for him to make his stand it was good to know he was leaving her in better hands than when he found her. But the time for that stand was not today, and right now he had a job to do.

"How badly did they get hit?" Sydney asked. Ryan was still at the doctor's getting his final medical workup before being cleared for active duty. She and Esposito had taken up flanking positions behind him as soon as he had stepped out of his office to head toward the whiteboard and its time line in Beckett's neat block letters.

"We don't know, but the best way we can help em is to keep working this case." Montgomery replied as his finger touched their victim's photo. "Now our murder victim had a key to this storage unit, so he was into more than just driving a cab." As he pointed to the storage unit's address.

"Dig deep into Amir Alhabi. Get his wife and his cousin in here, meanwhile I'll call the Syrian Consulate and see if I can find out why he had contact with their head of security."

"They won't talk to you." Agent Mark Fallon said brusquely as he rounded the corner into the squad room. "Whatever Alhabi was into, the Syrians don't want it blowing back on em."

"Excuse me," Montgomery asked, in no mood to play games, "who are you?"

"You must be Captain Montgomery, Rodgers' reports spoke highly of you," Fallon said, offering his hand, which Roy shook "Mark Fallon Department of Homeland Security," as he took back his hand and showed his credentials.

"Beckett may be one of your people, but Rodgers is one of mine. Depending on what they found D.H.S. might need to get involved."

**...**

Kate's hands were still shaking. She hadn't been trained for this, and the waiting game with nothing but silence outside of their enclosure was starting to get to her. In spite of Rick's comforting presence, she couldn't get the reading from the radiation detector out of her head.

"My radiation detector was maxed out, Rick." She said, with a slight tremor in her voice.

"I know," Rick replied, "so was mine, but our unshielded exposure was really brief, and it was only the residual radiation left behind by whatever had been in the crate. The HAZMAT guys are just being thorough. If it was really bad they would have had us stripping down and into decontamination showers long before now."

He was trying to console her without any real success. Though in truth he was as much trying to remind himself of the same thing as he pulled her closer. Deep down he knew in his head, that if it had been really, really bad they would have been held separately, and that was the one thing that gave him hope.

**...**

"We have to assume that Alhabi wasn't acting alone," Fallon stated, "where are we on his wife and cousin?"

"She's on her way in," Montgomery replied, "Jamal went out drinking, we're trying to track him down."

"Amir didn't have the nuclear material for himself, he was more likely holding it for someone else. Either way, odds are that's what got him killed." Fallon said, "have you checked his name against the terror watch list?"

"We're doing that." Montgomery replied, "Excuse me?" as he took Fallon aside for a moment.

"Yeah?" Fallon replied, knowing his brusque, take charge mentality tended to rub people the wrong way. It was why they had agents with better people skills, like Rodgers, embedded in likely target areas, as a go-between in these situations.

"Just so I'm clear," Montgomery asked, "are you taking over?"

"This is your case," Fallon replied, "I'm just here because one of my people is involved and to lend support where I can."

At that exact moment, Detective Esposito walked up behind them.

"Yo, Cap, INS just sent over the immigration paperwork for Amir Alhabi." He said, "he had a degree in electrical engineering from a school in Damascus."

"What was he working on in Syria?" Fallon asked.

No one was surprised when Detective Bristow walked around the corner. The picture of efficiency and professionalism.

"I have the answer to that one." She said, "I just got off the phone with the State Department. They debriefed Amir when he first landed here. He was working on a weapons program for the Syrians."

Nobody in the room was aware that Sydney was using "State Department" as a euphemism for the CIA. She knew without reservation that Director Webb could move a lot more resources than some State Department pencil pusher. Especially with his son in danger.

"Nuclear weapons?" Montgomery asked, a dark look crossing his features.

Sydney nodded. "I'm afraid so."

That definitely got Fallon's attention. "Okay, now I'm taking over."

**...**

**Several Hours Later**

Rick and Kate were trapped in a freezer in an abandoned warehouse. After butting heads with Agent Fallon one too many times insisting that something other than Arab terrorists were at the heart of this matter, he had removed them from the task force. Left to their own devices with the knowledge that Fallon was being led down the garden path the real perpetrator of this plot had carefully laid out they struck out on their own, though Sydney had texted him to let him know she would keep him and Webb apprised of any developments.

They had tracked McCann here and found the bomb, but he and his men opened fire on them, forcing them back toward the freezer they were now in. The sudden adrenaline surge of armed combat triggered a dizzy spell in Rick and Kate shoved him inside, pulling the door closed behind her. The last things they heard from outside were the metallic clang of the manual lock being slammed home and the screeching of tires as the van carrying the bomb pulled away.

They were trapped.


	46. Patriot Games

**Chapter Forty Five  
****Patriot Games**

"This wasn't the way it was supposed to go." Radford Hayes thought bitterly to himself as he drove the van carrying the dirty bomb away from the warehouse. He had never wanted to have to take it this far.

His wife and his son had been killed in the tragedy of the 9/11 attacks. He had been in uniform back then. Proudly serving his country when the planes had hit the Twin Towers. He had watched helplessly as both towers fell from thousands of miles away in Rammstein, Germany knowing his wife was working in Tower Two and his son was in day care two floors up.

He had requested transfer to a unit going to Afghanistan to go after Al Qaida but was instead shipped out to Iraq. He spent a full tour fighting in a war that made absolutely no sense. Saddam Hussein was not the real threat and the whole world knew it. The man was a monster, a rat bastard and he hated the United States to be sure, but above all else he was a coward and quite literally not that stupid.

The war on Iraq was a complete waste. A waste of time, resources, treasure and good men and women. All because the president wanted to fix his father's mistake in 1991. The real enemy had been allowed to escape as a result. He transferred to a unit bound for Afghanistan as soon as his regime was toppled.

Though Al-Qaida had, for all intents and purposes, escaped, he had the small satisfaction of helping take down the regime that had sheltered them. It was small comfort...and quite brief as a new threat to world stability came on the horizon. The fight was never over.

The Syrians were setting themselves up to be the next power broker in the Middle East. The next Iraq...the next Taliban. It was starting all over again, he could see it as clear as day. He had seen the atrocities they had committed with his own eyes. The politicians either didn't see it, or they didn't want to see it. He didn't know which possibility was worse. His friend, Kevin McCann had died after six tours in Afghanistan, because the president wanted to showboat in Iraq.

He had tried to go about it the right way. Tried to go through channels but they wouldn't listen. The final insult had been the "honorable" discharge. He had no choice.

He had to make them see. Make the American public see. He hadn't wanted it to come to this, but it was the only way. He had to wake the sleeping giant and fill him with the terrible resolve to deal with them before the whole cycle that lead to 9/11 could start all over again.

He actually felt sorry for the poor bastard he was setting up to take the fall. He had, at one time, been part of the Syrian weapons program, but had had a crisis of conscience and gotten out. Had the courage to tell his government "no." Dragged his entire family half way across the planet to keep them safe from their reprisal. He respected that, but unfortunately his former association made him the perfect patsy. Through him this would track back to the Syrians. In a way he was doing this for others like him who would not have to suffer under their cruel regime when the dust finally settled. The only two people who suspected otherwise would be dead before anyone else was the wiser. A shame, really, they were just doing their job, only doing what they thought was right. Two more martyrs to his cause.

...

They had found Jamal's moving truck...for all the good it did them. It was empty and the engine was cold. But for the residual radiation traces of cobalt-60 there was no evidence the bomb had ever been here. Montgomery was beginning to suspect that maybe Rodgers was right after all. That there was more to this than met the eye, but his hands were tied. Fallon was in charge, and he was more convinced than ever that this was a plot by the Syrians. They were running out of time.

...

Richard Rodgers busied himself with wrapping Jamal Alhabi's body in plastic. They didn't need to look at him, and the evidence on him needed to be preserved in case they didn't make it out of here.

Kate was busy trying the door and checking for cell reception. It was cold in the freezer likely below freezing. As they both bundled up as best they could. He knew that Kate was in the greatest danger here. Her slender body would have a harder time holding onto body heat. She was shivering in the cold already, in spite of her attempts to hide it.

They had discussed the likelihood that the terrorists returning for Jamal's body was high. Most likely they would wait a few hours for them to die of exposure first. They both knew they weren't going to last long in the sweatshirts and light jackets they had on. Rick pulled Kate in close enough for their foreheads to touch.

"Rick, I need a silver lining here." Kate whispered

"I wish I had one." Rick replied as his arms wrapped around her sharing his body heat, as they found a place to sit down in the cold confines of the freezer.

….

Sydney Bristow didn't like what was going on one bit. Webb had been shaking the trees like only the Director of Operations of the CIA could, but there was no indication of Syrian involvement in this plot. Their consulate hadn't been evacuated, there wasn't an unusually large amount of signal traffic coming out of their embassy either. Not the amount that would be generated by a country preparing to commit an act of war on the United States anyway.

None of this made any sense.

She had tried three times in as many hours to reach Agent Rodgers or Detective Beckett on their cell phones with no luck. Both were going directly to voice mail. She hadn't had enough time to Lo-jack his new Suburban, and Beckett's Crown Vic was still in the precinct's parking garage where she'd left it.

Ryan had come back to the precinct having been medically cleared for duty and both he and Javi had tried to get permission from Captain Montgomery to go looking for them, but to know avail, looking for the bomb was a higher priority.

She had managed to get a tracking device into Beckett's leather jacket and her badge before they were kicked off the task force and escorted out, (her pickpocketing skills were second to none, Beckett had never even noticed it was missing for the five minutes she had needed to do the job) but she wasn't receiving a signal from either one.

The signal was disrupted from the source and she couldn't risk checking the tracking history on either device on her tablet to find their last known position with Agent Fallon around. He had a habit of walking up behind people while they were working to get an update on what they were doing. She needed to get out from under him long enough to get a call to Director Webb so she could apprise him of the situation so he could give it a try. She was beginning to worry.

….

"Rick...are you...there?" Kate asked weakly, the cold had seeping into her bones.

"Y-yes...right here.." Rick replied.

"Can't feel anything..." Kate breathed, her voice hitching because of the cold, "I...always thought...being a cop...I'd take a bullet...never thought I'd freeze to death."

"Hey...we're...not dead yet." Rick replied, doing his best to try to keep her warm.

"I...just wish this was...one of your books...and you could re-write the ending." Kate said as her shivering began to get worse.

He could feel her slipping away and it was tearing his heart out.

"I...I...I'm sorry..." Rick said...his own voice hitching now.

"For what." Kate breathed.

"F-for getting you in...into this...f-for not...not telling you that...that...I still had the dizzy spells. If I..if I'd been..honest about it...we..."

"Shh...Rick...Shh...okay..."

"If...you had...we would never have...left the loft...never have...found the bomb...we...were just too late...okay..."

Kate turned in his arms to face him, and he pulled her in as close as he could, his heart breaking to see her like this...dying in his arms...barely able to stay conscious. She slowly lifted her hand to touch his face.

"Rick...thank you..for being there..."

"Always." Rick replied, as her hand slowly slid down to his sternum.

"I just...wanted you to know...how much I love..." she trailed off as she sunk deeper into hypothermia and lost consciousness her hand sliding limply into his lap.

"Hey...Kate...stay with me..." Rick said in desperation, as he shook her gently

"Kate...please...stay with me." he touched her face and could barely feel her breathing. Feeling the quiet sobs escaping his chest as he cradled her dying body closer to him. His eyes unable to form tears in the cold of the freezer. Praying to a God he had stopped believing in years ago for a miracle.

Offering up his own life if that was the price required to save hers, before he too slipped into unconsciousness, unwilling to live in a world without her in it.

….

Richard Webb had gotten to New York as fast as the HH-60 Blackhawk helicopter could carry him. The small tactical team he had put together seemed hesitant to be flying into harm's way with a Rear Admiral in BDU's aboard (even one wearing a Seal trident) But he was giving the orders tonight. Not a single one of them aware that his kill count (even excluding Vietnam) exceeded every single one of theirs.

"You have the location I provided. We need to secure the parking area and the loading dock. You should find an FBI issue Suburban parked nearby. We are looking for a missing male FBI Agent and a female NYPD detective. They have critical knowledge of a plot to detonate a dirty bomb somewhere in Manhattan. You are weapons free, assume multiple tangos. If it's carrying a gun and doesn't identify itself you are cleared for lethal force, otherwise secure and detain. Move out."

"Yes sir." stated the element leader.

With that he heard the near simultaneous pull of eight charging levers as the heavy Navy Seal element readied their weapons and silently disembarked as the wheels barely kissed the asphalt of the abandoned warehouse's parking lot before the Blackhawk flared and was airborne again. Webb wasn't taking any chances. He didn't have time to play phone tag with either Homeland Security, or local law enforcement and these men were the best in the business. Better to ask forgiveness than to ask for permission. They should have the target area secured within minutes.

….

Richard Rodgers dimly woke, his right eye opened, roused by the noises coming from outside the freezer. His left arm was still wrapped securely around Kate, but with his right hand he withdrew his Sig Sauer. He could barely feel his hand but he managed to get his finger into the guard and pull the trigger, making a very loud noise in the confines of the freezer, the kick from the slide driving the weapon from his numb fingers and send it clattering across the floor.

He barely registered the door of the freezer swinging open and dim shapes reaching for him before he slipped away again and saw only shadows.

….

Rodgers snapped awake suddenly in the back of an ambulance. When it registered in his slowly waking mind that Kate was nowhere to be seen, he snapped to full awareness and sat bolt upright in the gurney. An EMT tried unsuccessfully to push him back down.

"Kate!" he shouted, "Where's Kate?"

He didn't know where she was, she had been near death the last time he remembered seeing her, and now she was gone. The worst case scenario snapping into his brain as he rotated his body and placed his feet on the floor of the vehicle.

"She's fine son," said an older man sitting in the jump seat of the ambulance, wearing military style BDU's with two stars on his collar. His voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"She's being treated in the next ambulance over." which caused Rick to heave a heavy sigh of relief.

"It's a good thing my men are highly disciplined operators, young man. When you fired that shot to get their attention they very nearly opened up on you." Webb said with a smart ass wink.

"Is she...Is she okay?" He asked, wearing his unabashed concern for her on his sleeve. Webb was prepared for this question from his son. Known that he would want to know she was okay so he had made a point to check on her first. She had been sleeping peacefully with an IV of warm fluids in her arm to help combat hypothermia.

"She was a little worse for wear than you from the cold when they brought her out, but otherwise she was in good shape when I saw her last." Webb replied.

"Oh...thank God." Rick replied, breathing easier now that he knew she would be okay.

"Now sit still, son, let this young man do his job and look you over, then you can go see her, okay?"

"Who...who are you?" Rick asked.

"We spoke on the phone once before. The name is Webb...Richard Webb." he replied, causing Rick to stiffen visibly.

"I thought you were..." Rick began, but Webb silenced him with a hand on his shoulder.

"I am, but I was a Navy Seal before that," Webb replied, not being able to help the proud grin that formed on his face "and I've found that nothing else opens doors in military circles quite like having two stars on my collar."

"I suppose so." Rick replied.

"Rick, I know I'm not exactly on yours or Beckett's hit parade lately, but I make it my business to look after people who work for me, your friend and Beckett's mother notwithstanding. What happened to them drove home a hard lesson about vigilance. One I haven't forgotten since. You should ease up on Bristow too, if you would, she really does have your best interests at heart."

"So, I have her to thank for our timely rescue, then?" Rick asked.

"As a matter of fact, you do. She's a good kid, she broke protocol and damn near broke her cover again getting this to my attention." Webb said.

What he didn't tell his son was that he had made a promise to his mother. One he intended to honor. He just wasn't ready to divulge that particular secret yet.

"Oh...one more thing...I believe this is yours." Webb said as he pulled Rick's service weapon from the belt around his waist, and sliding it into his holster that was sitting on the bench with his credentials and the rest of his personal effects.

"I believe you dropped it in the freezer, returning your service weapon to you is becoming a bad habit of mine, I think." he joked lightly, before he slipped out of the ambulance.

He could no longer trust the look on his face, or the tone of his voice, as a single tear wound it's way down his cheek. Both his son and the woman he loved had nearly died today, because the guy in charge of this task force was too narrow minded in his pursuit. Too fixated on Arab extremists to see the bigger picture, or know that the he was being played by the people who were really behind this. He'd had C.O.'s like that in Vietnam, and their learning curve got far too many good men killed. Absentee father or not, this was _his son_ and he was not gonna let that happen.

He wiped the single tear from his face as his expression hardened. It was time to have a word with this Agent Fallon, and straighten his ass out.

….

When the paramedic finally released him from his care, Rick slid his holster back in place pocketed the rest of his personal effects and wrapped himself in a blanket to go looking for Kate. He didn't have to look far, she had been standing next to a parked police car looking longingly at the ambulance he emerged from.

When she caught sight of him stepping from the side door, her face broke into that megawatt smile he loved so much. She ran to him, he opened his blanket and wrapped it around her as she settled into his embrace, their foreheads gently connecting.

"God, Kate, I thought I'd lost you." he breathed, barely able to speak the words, as if speaking them would somehow make them real and she would disappear.

"I know, Rick, when I woke up in an ambulance and you weren't there...I..." Kate trailed off, unable to even finish the thought as he pressed a desperate kiss to her lips which she returned with unabashed abandon.

….

As Agent Mark Fallon walked toward Rodgers and Beckett, he was still smarting from the "discussion" he had had with the Navy Rear Admiral that had, for reasons he had yet to determine, managed to interject himself into this affair. The man had been quite blunt about explaining how his lack of flexibility had nearly cost the lives of the two people who had actually managed to find the device. Not to mention that had they had access to sufficient backup they could have brought this whole mess to a close hours ago.

He didn't like being talked down to, but he couldn't deny the fact that the man was, quite simply, right. Now they had to pick up the pieces of his failure and try again to find the device before it could be armed.

It was time to move.

….

It had been nearly 5 hours since their rescue from the warehouse, and Rick and Kate were once again in the thick of it. It had come to light, after a database search, they the real Kevin McCann was dead. After interviewing his last living relative they found the real name of their man, Radford Hayes. A man who had served in his unit. They caught him, and brought him in for interrogation but he wasn't talking. Another tack would have to be taken.

….

**Nearly five hours later.**

Rick and Kate had managed to stop Amir's wife from driving the device to it's final destination. Hayes' had held her baby hostage to get her cooperation, but Agent Fallon had led a team and raided their hideout. Both of his accomplices were decorated Special Forces soldiers whom, as it turned out, had been lead to believe that the bomb was a fake, and they had been playing the opposing force in a readiness exercise. They eagerly gave up their part in the plot. .

The problem was they were now left with the fully armed device with only two minutes left to go, and the bomb squad was too far away to help them.

"Fallon, do you have any idea how to defuse a bomb?" Kate asked in desperation.

He was driving full speed toward their location, fully aware that he wold not get there in time.

"I'd need to see it. Can you send me a picture?"

Kate did has he asked but when he got the image it was too small to do him any good.

"Thirty seconds." Rick said dully

"Fallon!" Kate cried out into her phone.

"I'm sorry," Fallon replied, "I'm sorry." he knew when it went off they would be the the first of many to die. Deaths that would be on his head, because he had made critical errors in the beginning that had cost them precious time.

As the clock ticked inexorably down, Rick knew there was only one desperate play left to make as he looked over the device, the crude placement of the bundle of wires leading from the timer to the detonator. Reaching back in the recesses of his memory for the research he had once done over a decade ago for a book he had never written based on the Unabomber. Hoping he was right about what he was going to do.

"Kate, I love you." he said as he took her hand, looked her in the eye, then with his free hand grabbed the whole bundle of wires and yanked them sharply from the device.

The counter ticked down to zero...and nothing happened.. The street sounded eerily quiet as they both breathed a sigh of relief and then they were all over each other in a soul stirring kiss, from which they didn't come up for air for several minutes.

It was over and they were alive.

….

After they had spent time in the break room with the captain, Javi, Kevin and Sydney, during which Kate recounted their ordeal with a bit more mirth than they had had at the time, even Roy had gotten into the act, letting then know the Mayor wanted to decorate them both. Javi reminded them just how lucky the two of them were. Rick shared his sentiment as he looked lovingly at Kate.

Hayes will be charged and tried in a military court for treason. A capital offense. He would never again live to breathe free air. As the group began to disperse, before they left the precinct they took Sydney aside and thanked her for saving their lives.

That was the last anyone saw of either Rick or Kate for the next three days, during which they rarely left his bed, and only then to eat or use the facilities. Several hours locked in a freezer had not been pleasant and they spent the entire weekend huddled under blankets with the heat cranked up, wiping the memory of that frozen box of hell from their minds.

….

**Seven Days Later**

**An Undisclosed Military Prison**

Rear Admiral (upper half) Richard Webb, dressed in his undress whites, and his female aide entered the conference room where Radford Hayes sat at the table, his manacles chained to the floor. Before he sat down at the table, he turned to the guard and gave a curt order.

"Leave us."

"Sir, my orders were to not leave him alone with anyone."

"Corporal, the young lady standing next to you could take out your entire guard detail single handed, and they would never see her coming. I think I am safe enough from one young man chained to the floor. That's an order son."

"Sir, yes sir." the young Marine lance corporal said as he snapped to attention and saluted.

Webb returned the salute smartly and waited as he made his exit.

Hayes vainly attempted to rise to attention, but dropped heavily back onto his chair.

"I was only doing what I had to do.." he began but Webb cut him off angrily.

"As a soldier I am _disgusted_ by what you tried to do, and not just because my family lives in New York. You broke the faith. Not just with me, but with every other man and woman who put on the uniform, who walked a post, who fought and died for this country."

Hayes paled, wilting under the full force of Richard Webb's outrage.

"You became the very thing that you, and I, and every other man and woman in uniform swore an _oath_ to defend this country against. You didn't even have the stones to use your own _name_, and instead tried to sully the good name of a soldier who died with honor defending this country. You disgust me. I would like nothing better than to end you right here and now, but I won't. You are a _disgrace_ to the uniform and you will be tried and _executed_ for treason against the United States."

Webb took a moment to compose himself as he motioned for his aide to call for the guard. On his way to the door, he turned back to look Hayes in the eye one last time.

"But for the record, your warnings never went unheeded. The Syrians are being watched."

As the door slammed shut, Hayes bowed his head and wept, as what Webb told him sunk in. He had been heard after all. He had very nearly committed the worst terrorist act on American soil since 9/11, for nothing.

He had done it all for nothing.

….

**That Same day**

**Michael Smith's Townhouse**

Smith knew he was being watched, that he was being followed. The men following had tried to be subtle, but he was trained to find such people, to see the things others might miss. Their trade-craft was sloppy, and he made them every time. He knew they were trying to get a handle on his routine and it was only a matter of time before they moved on him.

He no longer had what they were looking for in his possession, or in his house. He had sent a coded message to Rick's office that would clue him in to pick up the package Roy sent him at a dead drop only he and Webb knew about. Anyone else listening in on the message would end up on the other side of the city on a wild goose chase with nothing to show for it.

Now that the package was safe, he would see about giving the men he was certain were coming for him a warm reception, remind them that he was once a SEAL. They would most likely get him, but they would learn the hard way, that _this_ old dog still had claws and teeth.

Ur RAH!


	47. Descent

**Chapter Forty Six  
****Descent**

Cole Maddox looked into the basement room where Michael Smith was being held, securely cuffed to a steel chair bolted to the masonry floor. He had developed a healthy respect for the man in the last two hours since he had sent his men to collect him. Even at his advanced age the man had proved to be a living weapon. It had taken _four_ of his best men to subdue him. Two of whom were now dead. Smith had shot one though the left eye as they came in the door, and killed the other with his bare hands after they had disarmed him. He had fought the other two to a standstill and in the end a Taser had had to be employed to bring the man down. He must have been a truly fearsome operator in his prime to have acquitted himself so well at his present age. He could only wish to age as well when he hit sixty five.

Out of respect for the man, he would let him sleep it off. He would wake with a splitting headache and his legs and back would painfully protest the position he was in which would work in his favor during his interrogation, he had plenty of time. Lockwood would not receive the order to move until he was finished here. His boss needed to know what Montgomery had given to Smith before they could move forward, so the ball was in his court. A few hours here or there will not effect the outcome of his current mission.

**Eighteen Hours Later**

Michael Smith was dead. In the end, Maddox had come away with nothing from his interrogation. Even after breaking nearly every one of his fingers, shocking him, burning him, water-boarding him, nothing seemed to work. The man simply shrugged it of, spat blood in his face and told him to go to hell. The only information that he was able to glean from him had been his last words, which even now echoed in his mind.

"_You might as well put a bullet in me now, _boy_, 'cause I'm not telling you shit. Be on with it and be on your way, because the guy I sent everything to eats guys like you for breakfast."_

He laughed in his face after that. Kept right on laughing until he applied the double tap to his skull. Even now, Cole Maddox, stone cold assassin-for-hire, couldn't get the sound of that old man's laughter out of his head.

….

Twenty four hours later

When Richard Rodgers stepped under the crime scene tape for the first time in nearly three weeks, Kate was already kneeling over the body in question. She had chosen not to wake him when she had gotten the call that morning as they had been up quite late the night before finding "alternative" uses for police issue handcuffs, and she had obviously figured that at least one of them needed a good night's sleep.

Since she still pretty much refused to go anywhere in her Crown Victoria, He guessed he was the natural choice since he would be driving them around in his new Suburban.

"What do we have, Dr. Parrish?" Rick said cheerfully.

"Nice of you to join us Agent Rodgers," Lanie replied with on eyebrow cocked, noticing that he wore an identical _'I was soooo up late getting some' _look on his face that Kate had been wearing when she arrived half an hour ago, "I see _somebody _has been up late entertaining."

When the two of them looked at each other and blushed Lanie went back to her initial findings.

"Our John Doe here is a Caucasian male, between sixty and sixty five years old, in extremely good health for his age, likely cause of death two gunshot wounds to the head, no apparent forms of identification. Time of death, sometime in the last eighteen to twenty five hours. I'll know more when I get him to the lab."

"So just a run of the mill pop and drop then?" Rick asked. At first glance this case didn't really seem to be Beckett flavored to him.

"I wouldn't say that, Rodgers," Lanie replied, bringing her pencil down to point at his fingers, "eight out of his ten fingers have been broken at all three joints, and the ligature marks at his wrists and ankles suggest he was restrained while they were broken. The contact points for the restraints are nearly rubbed raw. Somebody really worked the old guy over."

….

By the time Rick and Kate were back the the precinct, Sydney had been able to run his fingerprints through the FBI database and come up with a name. Michael Smith. She had heard of the guy by reputation. Everybody she knew figured Mr. Smith was an alias, but regardless of that, when Smith started poking around an operation, everybody knew that Nemesis was interested in what was going on.

His file was nearly as heavily redacted as Director Webb's, almost all the way back to Vietnam. Smith was supposed to be retired, but whatever was going on must be serious as a heart attack if they managed to take him down. She knew this had to go out ASAP. She turned in her reports and asked Captain Montgomery if she could take an early lunch so she could get to the dead drop before the next scheduled pickup.

Shortly after she left, Montgomery got a call from Riker's Island. Gary McCallister had been stabbed to death in his cell by none other than Hal Lockwood.

….

"How the hell did Lockwood even get into general population?" Rodgers asked out loud to no one in particular.

"Ryan and Esposito are running it down now." Kate replied. Her voice sounded hollow, as if she were in shock. The bliss they had shared together just the night before seemed like a distant memory, as other darker emotions began to come to the surface. The case that had nearly consumed her adult life once again coming back to haunt her.

"I'm sorry." Rick said.

"For what?" Kate replied

"Lockwood killed Raglan, then shanks McCallister in prison. Someone is cutting off all avenues of this investigation before it can even get off the ground."

"Rick, he isn't cutting us off, he's giving us new ones." Kate replied. "For the last four months we've been in a bate of will with the devil, and he just blinked."

Ryan and Esposito had come in not long after to tell her about the forged transfer order and were sent to dig up any background they could on the prison staff who had access to the forms to forge such a transfer order.

"Now what?" Rick asked, as Kate began to head for the elevator.

"We need to go to Lockwood's arraignment, I want to see if I can rattle his cage a little."

"Lockwood really isn't the type to get rattled." Rick pointed out.

"Not him, Rick, the man holding his leash." She replied.

From that moment on, Richard Rodgers was filled with an all-consuming sense of unbearable dread.

….

When Kate had gone to _"rattle Lockwood's cage"_ it didn't go as she expected. She had thought a few months in the ad-seg wing of prison would have shaken him, loosened that undeniable certainty he had that his employer held all of the cards, but he was just as intimidating as ever. Even shackled in a cage. Instead it was Kate who came away rattled.

"You got it ass backwards...you can't hide from him."

That thought echoed in her mind as they sat through the court session.

Rick saw the three men in police uniforms with 12th Precinct patches. Men he had not laid eyes on until today. Kate had seen them too, but she had been distracted by her discussion with Lockwood in the cage before he was led to the defense table and the judge began the proceeding.

Suddenly Lockwood looked back at the three men and nodded, then all hell broke loose. Rick saw the flash-bang grenade a second or two before it bounced on the floor. He shoved Kate to the floor and covered his eyes and ears just before it exploded sending a momentary flash of light and blinding noise before bedlam erupted.

He rose from the floor, Sig Sauer in hand as the "cops" pulled Lockwood from the room, unlocking his chains as they went, handing him a gun.

"Federal Agent!" Rick shouted, voice booming with authority, before they opened fire and he was forced to take cover. When he came up, they were headed for the stairs. As he gave chase, he heard the clacking of Kate's high heeled boots behind him, but e didn't dare slow his pursuit as they headed for the roof.

When he burst through the roof access door, they were clambering into a helicopter, as one of them saw him and opened fire. Rick dropped to one knee and returned fire with his Sig, cleanly putting the shot though the man's forehead, dropping him dead to the rooftop helipad of the courthouse. As the helicopter lifted from the roof, Rick opened fire on it, certain he had hit the back of the chopper at least once. He heard the report of Kate's own Sig, as she emerged from the access door at the retreating helicopter before she ran to him, assessing him for injuries as he rose to his feet.

He saw the look in Kate's eyes though. She was genuinely concerned for his welfare to be sure, but he also saw the wild look in them that told him she was beginning to spin out. Lockwood was loose, her only tenuous link to the man who had ordered the hit on her mother was now in the wind.

There was no pulling her back from the ledge now, she had well and truly gone over it.

….

Kate was sitting at the desk in her office at "The Old Haunt." She had her "unofficial" murder board of her mother's case on the opposite wall, staring at it without actually seeing it. Rick had tried to tell her that he had found evidence that Captain Montgomery was the third cop in the Ghost Crew along with Raglan and McCallister. He had told her about the falsified files from nineteen years ago, that they had been photocopied and altered to appear like another cop had been at the scene, but she simply could not believe that Roy Montgomery would have anything to do with it

She felt the vibration from her cell phone on the table and picked it up. It was Rick calling again. She hit "ignore" and let it go to voice mail just like the other ten times he had tried to call her. _'He was wrong'_ she thought to herself, _'he has to be, the Captain would never do this, would never keep this from me.'_

They had argued for nearly twenty minutes over it. She had said some particularly hurtful things to him...again...and she felt incredible guilt about it. She had cried the whole way here, cried some more after she arrived. He was wrong, she knew he was, he had to be. Once she proved it, she would go back and apologize for the angry, hurtful things she'd said.

Her phone rang again, this time it was a text from Montgomery.

_**Meet me at the hangar where we found the helicopter.**_

She put on the black outfit she had in the closet, strapped on her gun and headed out.

….

Two hours later

Kate walked into the darkened, quiet hanger. Something felt off about this, all of her senses were telling her something was off.

"Captain..." Kate called out.

"Over here." Came his quiet, terse reply as he stepped out of the hangar's office.

Kate received a text at that moment...it was Esposito.

_**3rd cop**_

_**it was Montgomery!**_

In that moment, she realized that Montgomery's weapon was drawn. Her own hand drifted to hers at her side.

"Put the gun away, Roy."

"Kate, I'm not going to jail for this, I can't put my family through that."

"Why?" Kate asked, all of her questions bound up in that single three letter word.

Neither of them noticed at the moment that Rick had slipped into the hanger.

"I was a rookie when it happened, Kate." Montgomery said, stepping nearer to her with each sentence he spoke. "McCallister and Raglan were heroes to me, I believed in what we were doing. We were just going to snatch Pulgotti that night. Bob Armen wasn't even supposed to be there. Armen reached for my gun and I heard the shot. I didn't even know it was my gun that went off until Armen went down. Then McCallister pulled me into the van. I remember him saying "It's okay kid, it's not your fault. Happens in this town every day."

Kate felt sick inside. Like a dark chasm had been opened in the pit of her stomach. Rick had been right all along. He had tried to tell her, tried to warn her, but she had refused to see it, refused to listen to a man who had stood by her when any other man would have left. A man who had given her no reason at all to believe he would lie to her.

Pushed him away...again...said hurtful, spiteful things to him...again. When in truth the one person she had trusted almost implicitly for most of her adult life had been lying to her almost from the very beginning.

Taking her shocked expression and stunned silence as his cue, he continued. Explaining how he had felt God had given him another chance to make things right by protecting her like he should have protected Johanna Beckett.

"Did you kill my mother?"

"No, that was years later, but she died because of what we did that night."

"Then who killed her?"

He went on to detail how the mysterious figure she knew only as "the dragon" blackmailed them for the ransom money then moved on to become this power figure both she and Rodgers still knew next to nothing about.

"Give me a name, Roy, you owe me that much."

"No, Kate, if I give you a name you'll run straight at him, Just like Rodgers' friend did when he found out, and look what they did to him. It would be more merciful to shoot you where you stand."

"Isn't that why you brought me here?" Kate replied angrily, "To kill me?"

"No, I brought you here to lure them."

She was once again stunned, her mentor and stand in father figure just kept running her through this emotional roller coaster ride. First his sins and now his plans to sacrifice himself for her safety.

"You baited them?" she choked out, barely able to speak past the lump in her throat.

"Yeah, and now they're coming." Montgomery replied, "I need you to leave, they're coming to kill you and I am not going to let em, I'm gonna end this, like I should have done years ago."

"I'm not going anywhere, sir."

"Yes you are. Rodgers! Get over here!"

Kate spun full around to see Richard Rodgers glaring at Montgomery with a mix of pity, anger and pure hatred. Kate could almost feel the anger and pain rippling off of him in waves. His fingers twitching over his own sidearm as if deciding weather to kill Roy or not. Rob Armen had been killed by accident, a stupid mistake by a clueless rookie who hadn't even meant to pull the trigger. All of the deaths to cover it up had been for nothing, his friend had died for nothing. She could see his anguish at the futility of it all in the emptiness on his face, the dead, defeated look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Rodgers," Montgomery said, understanding the emotions playing out on his face, his guilty conscience expressing itself in his own eyes.

"I wish I had more to tell you, but you need to get her out of here...NOW!"

"Captain, please just listen to me," Kate begged, "you don't have to do this."

"Kate..." Rogers said softly placing a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away.

"No!...Sir! I forgive you...I forgive you!" Kate pleaded.

"This is my spot, Kate, this is where I make my stand." Montgomery said.

"No..." Kate pleaded again, anguish in her voice tears welling in her eyes. "no please, you don't have to do this."

"Get her out of here, now! Nobody else is dying for my sins!"

"Please...sir..no!" Kate's anguish laden plea was cut off as Rick grabbed her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides as he lifted her bodily from the room and hauled her kicking and screaming from the hanger. The door slamming shut just before Lockwood's SUV pulled up to the open hanger door.

"Rick...please..." she begged him as he half dragged, half carried her toward his Suburban.

"Kate, I'm going back for him...I promise, but you have to stay here."

"I can't leave him...Rick...please..." she begged

A look of quiet resignation drifted over his face, he had prepared for this. He almost wished she hadn't made it necessary.

"There's another vest in the back, behind the driver's seat." as he opened the passenger side door and opened the drawer containing his P-90. She opened the passenger side back door and leaned all the way into the passenger compartment to look for it but found nothing.

"Kate...I'm so sorry." Rick whispered softly.

Before she could reply, he pressed the stun gun just above her right hip and pushed the button. She jerked once and lay still, slumped across the back seat. He pushed her legs gently into the back of the vehicle, leaned in to check she was unharmed and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. He covered her with a blanket and closed the door of the Suburban, locking her inside.

Once he was sure she would be safe there, he pulled the charging lever on his P90 and headed back toward the hanger, picking up his pace when he heard the gunshots. When he re-entered the hanger he saw three of Montgomery's assailants were down, but by his movements could tell he'd been hit too. When he saw Lockwood slipping around the the other side of the helicopter, he knew he had to act fast.

"Montgomery! Get down!" Rick shouted just an instant too late as Lockwood fired, and Roy went down. Rick opened up with a sustained burst from his P-90 and drilled Lockwood in the chest shoulders and head as he used the minor muzzle climb to his advantage.

With Lockwood dealt with he ran to check on Montgomery. He was bleeding heavily.

"Tell Kate...tell her I'm sorry..." He said as he reached up and Rick took his outstretched hand. He really couldn't feel any more anger for the man. He had been a kid at the time, swept up in events beyond his control.

"Mike...Mike would have sent the files...to a guy he knows...soon he won't be able to...able to touch her."

It was the last thing Montgomery said before he faded, before the lights went out. Richard Rodgers screamed his anger hate and frustration into the empty confines of the hanger. His pain and anguish at the futility of it all echoing off of the walls.


	48. In Brightest Day

**Chapter Forty Seven  
****In Brightest Day**

Arlington National Cemetery  
Washington, D.C. 2:00 PM

The funeral cortege had departed, the lone Marine had packed up his bugle, saluted him and marched respectfully away in lock step with the rifle detail. The naval aircraft that had flown the Missing Man formation were on their way back to Pax River Naval Air station, and the USS Gettysburg was standing down and returning to station after supplying the gunnery salute. His friend's sister and her family had finally left, but Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Richard Alexander Webb still stood in his full dress uniform above the grave of his best friend of over forty years.

Captain Michael Smith, USN (retired) had received the full honors funeral befitting a man of his rank having died as a retired Captain of the United States Navy, decorated twice with the silver star for valor in Vietnam and three time recipient of the Purple Heart. But to Richard Webb, it wasn't enough, it would never be enough.

Somebody had gone to Mike's home, Tased him, dragged him away, tortured him and then killed him. Left him in an alley in New York City like a piece of garbage and he was going to find out who and why. His people had found and sanitized Mike's home so the police would find nothing out of the ordinary. He didn't want this handled by the police, this was going to be dealt with in-house. When he found out who was responsible for this, Nemesis was going to hunting, and heaven help whomever was responsible, because he was going to come down on them like the wrath of an avenging all-powerful God.

He made this vow silently, before snapping slowly to full attention, saluting his old friend's coffin as it was lowered into place by the workmen, turned smartly and marched off to his waiting car. He had received word that before he had died, Mike had left a message for him at the office. One his secretary had been reluctant to deliver to him in the field.

Sydney Bristow's Apartment  
10:00 PM

Sydney Bristow had received the priority alert to prepare for a change in mission status and orders while she was laying out the crisp new dress uniform she had only recently received from the NYPD. She had had the jacket altered a day ago to allow for the shoulder holster for her service weapon.

She knew that the change in orders would likely come in the next twenty four to thirty six hours, so she went back to unpacking the dress uniform from the dry cleaning bag and affixing the badge and ribbons to it. Making certain that it was crisp and neat for the sad detail that was scheduled for the following morning.

She couldn't escape the bad feeling she had that something bad was going to happen. That the other shoe was going to drop. Though she felt wired and on edge, she forced herself to go to bed and get some rest. She would need to be alert and vigilant in the morning.

The following morning  
Cypress Hills Cemetery

It was a bright sunny Sunday morning as the NYPD funeral cortege pulled into Cypress Hills Cemetery where Captain Roy Montgomery was to be laid to rest. He had died a hero attempting to recapture the escaped prisoner known only as Hal Lockwood, and his accomplices who had broken him out of the courthouse at his arraignment.

Captain Montgomery's flag draped coffin was pulled from the hearse to it's place over his grave. The pipe and drum corps preceding them to the tapping of drums. The four of them had kept his dark secret between them and were here to lay their beloved Captain, their friend, their mentor to rest.

The decision to help keep his secret had been the last time that Kate had seen Richard Rodgers or spoken to him since that night in the hanger, she had been angry at him beyond the point of reason for rendering her unconscious rather than letting her help. She had blamed him for Roy's death, even accused him of letting him die to avenge his friend. Rick did not apologize for keeping her out of harm's way, nor would he, even thought her angry glare and harsh words that night tore his heart in two. Her gaze seemed to have softened a little this morning though, she had even made a point of brushing her hand over his as she straightened his tie when he arrived.

Kate stepped up to the podium and began her eulogy.

"Roy Montgomery taught me what it meant to be a cop. He taught me that we are bound by our choices, but we are more than our mistakes."

Her words were clipped in that manner of speaking she used when she was trying very hard to keep her emotions in check. Though she meant every word, Rodgers could see the conflict in her body language, see the war going on behind her eyes as she continued speaking of the legacy that she would have wanted her mentor and substitute father figure to leave behind, but was forever shattered for her. She had forgiven him, but she could never forget what he had done. What he had been a part of.

"And if you're very lucky, you find someone willing to stand with you"

Kate paused and looked over at Rick when she said that, her eyes and expression carrying absolution, "I love you" and "I'm sorry" with a single long loving glance. Over the course of the past few days, after her anger over his use of the stun gun on her had subsided, she had come to the realization that, in the state she had been in that night, she would likely have been more of a liability than a help to him. She would have charged headlong into that hanger and likely gotten them all killed.

As she finished her eulogy, a mirrored glint caught Rick's eye off in the distance. A flash of metal that was incongruous with the sea of marble and grass, something menacing, a shadow behind one of the grave markers. He immediately swept across the the remaining distance between him and Kate and leaped for her, catching her in the midsection in a flying tackle as the loud crack of high powered sniper rifle broke the silence.

He had seen her body spasm in the way people did when they were shot, just an instant before his body connected with hers and they landed in a heap behind one of the grave markers. When rose to his knees she didn't follow.

"Kate!" Her blood was staining his hands as he struggled to hold it back.

"Kate...please...hold on..." Rick pleaded, "Stay with me Kate please..."

"Don't leave me...please...stay with me...okay?" He could see her fight, struggling to stay, to keep her eyes focused on him. He could also see that she was losing that fight.

"Kate...I love you...I love you Kate." He whispered to her, she smiled slightly before her eyes slipped closed and Lanie shoved him bodily aside to work on her as he looked on helplessly from behind her.

He rose to his full height, his hand coming to rest on his sidearm struggling with the emotions at war in his heart as he scanned the area and the ambulance screamed into view.

….

CIA Headquarters  
Langley, Virginia  
Shortly therafter

Richard Webb had been off the grid for the past six hours. It had been years since he had had to slip out of DC and into the city in the middle of the night in an unmarked vehicle with not even a bodyguard. He had gone to the dead drop they had set up exclusively for their use. The one he had insisted to Mike they set up in case he needed help and couldn't talk openly.

He had picked up the package that Mike had sent, noting it was a thick file storage binder inside the envelope, but not daring to look at it out in the open. He knew that this was likely what had gotten his friend killed. What they had tortured him for nearly a full day to obtain. For him to take that kind of punishment he must have thought it was vital it be seen by his eyes only.

He was shocked by what it contained, the identity of the man he had been chasing for fifteen years. Whom he had once bounced on his knee as a boy, whom he had once considered family.

"No...Billy...oh dear God...Billy, what have you done."

Indecision gripped his heart for several moments until the television's blaring caught his attention about a shooting at an NYPD police funeral, and he looked n the screen to see his son stepping into the back of an ambulance.

He picked up a phone and paged his secretary.

"Janet, I need to you to dial John Bracken for me. It's urgent."


	49. In Blackest Night

**Chapter Forty Eight  
****In Blackest Night**

The ride in the ambulance was a case study in horror for Richard Rodgers. He watched from the paramedic's jump seat as Lanie Parrish and both of the EMTs worked in the small space of the ambulance to keep her alive as if through a slowly darkening haze, His left hand gently touching the top of her head with no conscious thought behind it. None of this seemed real to him as he felt everything slipping away, felt her slipping away. Her skin was taking on the same pallor his daughter's had that morning he had lost her.

Somewhere he heard the distant wail of a heart monitor, heard the echoing voice of one of the medics shout "Asystole" barely felt it as Lanie batted his hand away from Kate's head as she shouted "Clear" applied the paddles to Kate's chest and activated the defibrillator, then once again straddled her chest as she resumed her ministrations to keep Kate's damaged heart pumping.

"Don't you die on me Kate...don't you dare die on me."

The mantra he could hear coming from Lanie seemed to echo off the walls in the ambulance, barely registering in his brain as she worked on the woman he loved. His world had shrunk to the small space between himself and Kate's face, half enclosed by the oxygen mask and breathing bag employed by the paramedic as Lanie worked on her.

….

Cypress Hills Cemetery

Sydney Bristow had taken charge of the active crime scene, still wearing her dress uniform, the jacket and hat long discarded in favor of her Kevlar as she directed the CSI and ESU units. Her sidearm once again on her belt. Until a ranking officer arrived, this was _her_ scene and she put anyone who showed up to work scouring the cemetery for evidence.

She knew who the shooter was, who it had to be. Cole Maddox. The M.O. was glaringly clear once they found the spot where the sniper had opened up from, barely one hundred yards from where Beckett had been standing. The sniper rifle and gillie suit discarded to make a quick exit.

He preferred the challenge of getting in close enough to make direct fire kills. Up close and personal was his specialty, as his kills were meant to send a message. She had the advantage of having seen his dossier and psych profile back when he had been sent to kill her. He had killed his previous employer in exactly this fashion to send a _"don't jack me around"_ message of his own to anyone else who wanted his services.

As a cop she needed evidence. She just happened to know how and where to look to find it.

She also knew he didn't like to leave jobs unfinished, and Beckett wasn't dead. He wouldn't leave the city until his job was done, he had a professional reputation to protect. If she lived through the night, he would be back.

….

Vietnam War Memorial  
Panel 70 E  
Washington D.C.

John Bracken was waiting for him when he arrived. Examining the long dark granite panels of the memorial. Finding names he recognized in the evening's last fading light as the lights began to come on. Richard Webb knew many of the same men. Could still picture some of them in his mind.

"Billy is into some pretty heavy shit now, John. Some of it is borderline treason, the rest is just plain murder."

His friend bowed his head, he didn't want to see it. He didn't want to see the level of corruption his son was involved in. The level of depravity he had sunk to from the boy he knew.

"John, this isn't like getting him out from under that whole "Ghost Crew" thing twenty years ago, he was involved a lot more deeply than either of us thought at the time."

"He was such a good boy, Rick." John Bracken whispered, "Such a good boy."

"I know he was, but he isn't a little boy anymore. He's killing _cops_, John. He killed Mike, and he's going after my family. I can't let this slide, John, I have to stop him."

"Please, send him to prison if you have to, just don't hurt him...promise me."

"I won't kill him, John, nor will any of my people, but you had better pray that Kate Beckett doesn't die, because if she does, I can't be responsible for what my son will do."

John nodded, and turned back to his contemplation of the names embossed in black marble, but turned around again as Rick Webb spoke.

"John, I know what you're thinking," Richard Webb stated with just a hint of cold authority in his tone before turning to leave, "but if _anything_ happens to my son, I will forget that we were ever friends."

After Webb disappeared around the other side of the memorial John Bracken pulled out his cell phone and dialed his office.

"Angela, I believe Dr. Elizabeth Corday is at a medical convention in the city, call her and let her know I'm calling in a favor. Then contact Cedar Sinai."

Cedar Sinai Emergency Room  
New York City

"Come on Katie, don't you die on me!" Lanie Parish cried out from on top of the gurney where she was feverishly still working on Kate's unconscious form as they burst into the double doors of the emergency room

"Stay with me, Stay with me!" she pleaded as she worked frantically to keep her alive.

"Single GSW to left chest" the paramedic reported as the ER attending ran up.

"Set her up for a chest tube and get her to trauma one." He ordered before looking up at Lanie

"Switch with me, we got this!" The attending said.

"This is my friend, you understand me? She's my friend!" Lanie said between gritted teeth as she continued to work.

"Then let us save her life." He replied, understanding in his tone.

Lanie nodded through glistening eyes as she slid from the gurney, her feet suddenly rooted to the spot as Rodgers caught up with her and she buried her head in his chest and began to sob.

"It's gonna be okay," he said woodenly, not sure if he believed the words himself, "you did the best you could, you got her here, now it's out of our hands."

"She's my friend...she's my best friend..." Lanie continued to repeat as she sobbed

"I know, Lanie...I know..." Rick replied as he led her into the waiting room where the others had begun to gather.

….

Doctor Josh Davidson was beginning to scrub in, as the lead trauma surgeon for Cedar Sinai on this shift he had gotten the call that a cop with a GSW to the chest was being prepped for surgery, but before he was finished the Chief of surgery entered with a tall redheaded woman in a crisp suit he had not seen since medical school.

"Davidson, you're going to be second chair tonight, Dr. Elizabeth Corday will be taking point on this one."

Josh was stunned. Normally his ego would have taken a massive hit, and he would have been extremely pissed to be forced to second chair in his own operating room, but Dr. Corday had been his inspiration since medical school. Her reputation as a trauma surgeon was second to none here in the States and in her native England.

During his residency at County General in Chicago and had scrubbed in with her once to observe as a fourth year medical student, before transferring to NYU, but he doubted she would remember.

"Dr Corday I would be honored to watch you work." he said as he brightened visibly and showed her where the scrubs were and let her scrub in for surgery while bringing her up to speed on what was now her case.

….

As soon as Rick and Lanie tuned the corner into the waiting room, he passed her off to Esposito's waiting arms, and took a seat next to his mother. Gradually it seemed like the floodgate of emotions in his heart came to a stop as if he had expended them all, and he felt hollow, empty...used up.

He felt dead inside like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and dragged into that operating room with Kate and he had nothing left inside but a cold, dark emptiness which descended upon him, enveloping him like a heavy blanket.

Nobody else was looking at him at that moment, but Martha Rodgers. She recognized the look in her son's eyes as the darkness descended upon his soul. She had seen it before, not in her son's eyes but in Richard Webb's. She had seen that look on his face in 1968, the morning he had slipped out of her bed and he thought she had been asleep. A morning she had tried for over forty years to drive from her memory.

Two weeks later the murders had begun, each more gruesome than the last. Now the sins of the father had been visited upon her son. The darkness in her son's eyes was the same one that had been in Webb's all those years ago, a look in his eyes that to this day still haunts her nightmares.

The cold, bleak, empty visage of the angel of death.


	50. No Evil Shall Escape My Sight

**Chapter Forty Nine****  
****No Evil Shall Escape My Sight**

Lanie Parrish' Office  
OCME 6:30 AM

Lanie Parrish was about to slide her key into the lock of her office when she noticed that the light was on. She hadn't wanted to leave the hospital while Kate was still in a coma, but there was little left to do but wait and see if she would wake up.

The surgeon, Dr. Corday had told them that she had gotten all of the bullet fragments out and repaired most of the damage, but now the rest was up to Kate Beckett. She then told them that they should all try to get some rest themselves. After reading Kate's chart for the fifth time, she realized she needed to do something, needed to keep busy or she would explode.

Kevin told her he would call as soon as there were any changes, and looking at Rodgers' cold dead eyes in the waiting room was seriously starting to creep her out. The man hadn't spoken a word since trying to console her when Kate had been wheeled away, and she he hadn't seen the look that was in his eyes since she had zipped his little girl into a body bag nearly a decade ago and she was ashamed to admit that it was starting to get to her.

The door to her office was slightly ajar, and the light was on. She knew she had locked up and turned off all of the lights the night before Captain Montgomery's funeral. Nobody should be in there. Javi had tried to warn her that there might be a leak in her office but she hadn't wanted to believe him. She had been rather indignant about it actually, but now she could hear somebody rummaging through her office. She quietly called security on her cell phone, then pushed her office door open.

Her new "intern" was standing over her disassembled office phone as if looking for something. When she coughed and the young woman looked up, her expression hardened, as she rose from her handiwork.

"Dr. Parrish...this isn't what it looks like..." she tried to stammer

"The hell it isn't." Lanie replied angrily as the young woman rounded her desk, a small blackjack appearing menacingly in her hand.

"This is a lot bigger than you Dr. Parrish, you really should have left well enough..."

The woman's reply was cut off as Lanie clocked her with a single punch to the face.

"Leave well enough alone? You _really_ don't know me very well, _bitch_." Lanie replied darkly to the unconscious young woman lying crumpled on her office floor as she dialed Javi who was still waiting in the car outside to run her home.

"Javi, get in here! I think I just plugged your leak."

….

Martha Rodgers was seriously beginning to worry about her son. He hadn't spoken a word, or moved and he hardly blinked since sitting down in the waiting room. She hadn't seen him like this since after Alexis' funeral and she had hoped to never see him this way again. She could only see one option open to her to help him. She excused herself and headed to the ladies room, the small burner phone already in her hand as she pushed the door open and stepped inside, calling the one person who might understand, and be able to do something.

….

"I know you're worried about him, Martha." Richard Webb said, trying to console her as best he could, "So am I. I'm taking steps to deal with this, so he won't have to. I don't want him to turn into what I became any more than you do."

"Richard, whatever you're doing, please hurry, I can see him slipping away" Martha pleaded over the other end of the line in a voice that told him she must be in tears and it broke his heart.

"I'll do what I can, Martha, the rest is up to him. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Richard." she replied before she closed the line.

Richard Webb knew what he had to do. It had been a long time coming, and he hadn't anticipated having to do this to a man he had once bounced on his knee as a boy, his own Godson, but as his Godfather he had had a responsibility to help teach him right from wrong and he had obviously not properly fulfilled that part of his obligation. It was long past time to remedy that lapse in Billy Bracken's education.

After once again reading the files that Michael Smith had sent him. The ones his best friend since Vietnam had been taken from his home, tortured and murdered for, he opened his desk, produced a burner phone, turned it on and dialed a number from memory. When the line picked up, he was asked for a code number, which he also recited from memory. When asked for his authorization code phrase he said in a clear voice "_Nemesis Rising_."

He was then automatically routed to the line he was truly after. When the man on the other end picked up he uttered a simple command.

"Execute ops plan _Instant Karma_, target: Senator William Bracken" and promptly hung up. He disassembled the burner cell, removed the battery and the sim card, which he snapped in half, threw the battery onto his desk and dropped the phone and sim card into the incinerator chute on his way out the door. He had a helicopter to catch.

Within moments, coded text messages went out and nearly a hundred sleeper agents around the globe were roused from their slumber of mundane jobs and lives. The scattered remnants of _Project Archangel_ rose from the ashes and answered the call, immediately swinging into action.

Over the next day, records of all of Senator William Bracken's past misdeeds, every last skeleton in his closet had been transmitted to the Justice Department. All of his international accounts were frozen or rendered inaccessible. Every illegally gained and hidden asset would be identified, tracked and locked down before the ink on the federal arrest warrant against him was dry.

His bank accounts in Switzerland and the Cayman Islands were hit with Trojan horse programs dispensing a worm virus that targeted and froze out those specific accounts. By the time the Swiss and Cayman Islands banking authorities would be able to do anything, it would be too late. They would be as if they had never existed.

There would be no more hired mercenaries or paid assassins to come to his aid and nowhere for him to run. Those who were already bought and paid for would be targeted and eliminated. Including the one in the hospital where Kate Beckett was being cared for. Richard Webb dragged the woman disguised as a nurse into a nearby men's room and applied the silenced double tap to her head personally. The cleaner would be in shortly to take care of her remains. It would be weeks before anyone noticed the extra Jane Doe in the hospital morgue.

The final phase of ops plan _"Instant Karma"_ would be placed in the hands of his son within the next forty eight hours.

….

Detective Sydney Bristow was unofficially in charge of the precinct, given the fact that everyone else was either dead, in the hospital, or out of the office, when an older, dark skinned woman she had never laid eyes on before walked into the 12th Precinct walked briskly up to her and flashed a shiny new NYPD Captain's shield.

"I am Captain Victoria Gates, I have been sent to take over here, Detective."

"Welcome to the 12th Precinct, Captain," Sydney said, barely concealing her contempt, "I was just about to go off shift, Officer Velasquez would be happy to show you around."

"I'm told that one of my detectives is in the hospital." Gates replied.

"Yes, she is, your lead detective, Kate Beckett actually, I'm heading out now to go see her." Sydney replied back to her.

"Keep me informed as to her condition while I get up to speed here." Gates ordered.

"Yes ma'am." Sydney replied, to which Gates seemed to bristle.

"If my mother comes to the precinct you can call her _ma'am_, call me either _'Sir'_, or _'Captain'_ from now on." Gates stated imperiously

"Yes _sir_," Sydney replied before heading for the elevator with an apologetic nod to Officer Velasquez on her way out.

She had received a coded priority message on her cell phone which told her that she had received her change of orders and she was to check in on her secure server in her apartment. Things were about to get interesting.


	51. Let Those Who Worship Evil's Might

**Chapter Fifty  
****Let Those Who Worship Evil's Might**

Sydney Bristow sat in front of her laptop with its secure, encrypted server and still could not believe what the screen was telling her. This was a complete shift in her mission priorities. It was all there on the screen for her to read.

To: Operative Sydney Bristow

From: Director of Operations

RE: Change of mission parameters

Subject: Cedric Marks, aka Cole Maddox

Orders:_** SANCTION WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE**_

This was not a surveillance mission any longer, it was wet work, seek and destroy.

The rest of the priority directive went on to detail his dossier, which she had already read, complete with his psychological profile and his training in both hand to hand and small arms. This was a man trained to kill people, period. She was tasked for this mission because she had been trained to deal with men like him, though she had never been trained or previously tasked specifically for this type of operation, however, all SD-6 and CIA operatives had been cross trained to deal with the possibility of receiving such a mission order.

She had trained herself hard this past year, figuring one day she would have to deal with this man, or someone very much like him. Jerry Tyson had not even been a minor training exercise, he had never had to deal with the likes of her. She had been greatly distressed, though when she had been detained running a crime scene leaving Beckett and Rodgers to deal with Hal Lockwood themselves, as they were not really trained to deal with that type of operative.

She knew that they had been quite fortunate to have come out of that experience alive. Their only saving grace was that he had underestimated them which had been his undoing. In the hangar Rodgers had offered him no quarter when he had opened fire on him from behind, and he had been right to do so.

Cedric Marks was another such operative. Affording him _any_ kind of parity would be a grave tactical error, one she had no intention of making. She would use every advantage she had at her disposal, including her more than passing physical resemblance to Kate Beckett.

She would need to stop at the loft Beckett shared with Agent Rodgers and borrow some of her clothes, most notably a pair of the high heeled boots she favored. It was a good thing they wore the same shoe size and that she had worn (not to mention fought in) crazier outfits while undercover. Though to be honest she generally favored more of a pony heel, herself.

Her musings were cut short by a loud knocking on her door. She closed her laptop and slid it into the top drawer of her desk before rising to answer it. It was her partner, Ann Hastings.

"You okay, Sydney?" Hastings asked, "You dragged ass out of the precinct awfully fast after the new Captain arrived."

"I'm fine, Hastings, just been a rough day, and I was too tired to deal with some FNG even if it is the new captain, I'll make nice later." Sydney replied, trying to inject a weary tone into her words

"Roger that," Hastings replied, "but you look like you could use a friend."

"I'm fine, Ann." Sydney replied, more forcefully than she had intended.

It was then that Ann Hastings saw the assortment of weapons, including a disassembled tactical Sig Sauer, (complete with silencer) arranged on her coffee table, the unmarked black tactical vest draped over a chair. She could tell something was up, that she was planning something.

"Sydney...what are you gonna do?" Hastings asked darkly.

"Go home, Ann." Sydney replied, her voice dripping with cold authority, "Where I'm going you can't follow."

"Sydney...wait...Let me help you!"

"Ann, please, _go home_," Sydney repeated, a softer, more concerned tone in her voice as she whispered, "I'm not a cop tonight."

Sydney breathed a sigh of relief, when Ann relented and she saw her car pulling out of the lot below, little did she know the words she had whispered as she got into the elevator.

"Then I guess, neither am I, Sydney."

….

Sydney Bristow was glad Kate kept a spare key to the Rodgers loft in her desk drawer, it had saved her a lot of time trying to pick the lock. It was also fortunate that the doorman on duty was the diligent sort who didn't watch TV or listen to the radio while he worked. She had colored her hair to the same shade as Beckett's after Ann had left and had it in a tight bun. Along with her dress uniform from the funeral she looked enough like Beckett for the doorman to wave her through without comment.

It was good to know that her disguise could pass muster with casual glances across a foyer, but she needed to complete the look. She was certain that between Beckett's makeup kit and her closet she could have Maddox confused enough to get him to come in close, give her an edge so she could take him out. The bastard had it coming in spades.

Unlike the previous dossier she had been given which had included only a current photo, his training history and his psych profile, this one had also included a list of his confirmed kills over the past ten years. Near the top of the list was a name that had made her blood go cold. Michael Vaughn.

The bastard had killed Michael and she was going to make him pay.

….

Lone Vengeance waited on the roof, watching as the woman she was tracking entered Richard Rodgers' apartment complex, still wondering why Sydney Bristow would be going there in the middle of the night, knowing nobody would be home.

Ann Hastings hadn't wanted to go the costumed superhero route for this, the situation was far too grave. She certainly couldn't involve _Paul_ in this mess, that was for sure. It was merely the only option left open to her. She obviously couldn't use any of her NYPD issued tactical gear, and hadn't had time to go back to the precinct for it, regardless.

The costume had been made using the military grade Kevlar she had brought back with her from Iraq, the dragon skin was lighter and of better quality than her police issue gear, and her apartment had been closer. As it was, she had barely made it back to her partner's apartment building in time to catch Sydney leaving with a duffel over her shoulder and followed her here.

She had been taking a sip from the small bottle of water she had brought with her and nearly did a spit take when she saw a woman wearing four inch heeled boots step outside, her stride full of purpose. If she hadn't known for a _fact_ that Beckett was in a coma following her shooting and the subsequent surgery performed to save her life. If she hadn't seen with her _own_ eyes her pale, still form with tubes sticking out of her arm and down her throat in the ICU, she would have _sworn_ she'd seen Detective Kate Beckett walking out of the loft she shared with Richard Rodgers and get into the driver's seat of a matte black Mercedes S-class.

….

Cole Maddox hadn't heard from the subcontractor he had hired to finish off poor Detective Beckett for for nearly twelve hours. She had missed two scheduled check-ins regarding mission status and he was beginning to come to the conclusion that she had been made. It was unlikely the police had made her, as there was no increase in police presence at the hospital, but the woman he had hired had been a professional, not a wanna be, military trained just like him and such thing were ingrained in them like clockwork.

Everything in the hospital seemed to be routine until he saw a woman through his binoculars waking out of the front door of the hospital. A woman dressed like...no...it couldn't be Beckett. He had personally put a .308 frangible round directly into her chest. He had seen her fall, saw that damned Agent Rodgers crouched over her body. It couldn't possibly be her.

As he was getting up from his crouched position on the rooftop a harsh, angry female voice could be heard directly behind him.

"Come to check on your handiwork asshole?"

Maddox turned and looked at source of the voice behind him and nearly laughed.

"Halloween isn't for another five months, sweetheart, you might want to walk away now before you get hurt."

Hastings balled up her fists at her sides and attacked.

….

If Sydney had not already been scanning the rooftops she would never have noticed the brief flash of light bouncing odd glass on the top floor of the carport across the street from the hospital.

"Got you, asshole." she whispered to herself and walked casually but briskly across the street, hoping not to be noticed as she passed under the awning of the doorway.

….

This fight was not going the way Ann Hastings thought it would, chiefly due to the fact that she was getting her ass handed to her, and she knew it. Her opening series of combinations did push him back, but once the shock that she was proficient wore off, he rallied as if he had been attacked by a small child.

His first punch had been a shot to her sternum, though partially deflected by the Kevlar, still struck with enough force to take the wind from her sails, setting her up for his second series of punches which landed in her midsection, followed by a sweep of her legs which sent her sprawling backwards into the roof access door. When she staggered forward again, he put a knee into her stomach, doubling her over then a hard downward elbow smash to her kidneys dropping her face first onto the deck.

He had picked her up by the throat and was about to snap her neck, when he heard another voice behind him.

"Hey Maddox, we tried it once your way, you game for a rematch?"

The moon had her in silhouette as she stepped onto the rooftop from the fire escape, all Maddox saw was high heeled boots, long legs sheathed in skinny jeans, a zipped up biker jacket and long, straight dark hair.

"You're dead...I shot you...you're _dead_..." He stammered as he dropped Hastings to the deck and numbly stepped forward.

"Not quite." the shadow replied

It hardly registered in his mind when the shadow tinged huntress snapped her wrist downward and a collapsible baton extended in her hand. The fight was on.

The hired killer's confusion was just the opening Sydney needed as she leaped into her attack. He put up a fierce defense at first, but his momentary loss of focus cost him dearly as she shattered his left forearm with the carbon steel baton, and from that moment forward, the fight was hers as she swiftly, methodically, mercilessly took him apart a piece at a time, ending the fray as she shattered his right kneecap with the baton, dropping him to the deck for the final time.

As he lay broken on the rooftop, slumped against the ledge not far from where he had dropped Hastings, Sydney drew a 9mm Tactical Sig Sauer and slowly screwed a silencer onto the end of it.

"You're...not...Beckett..." Maddox gasped out through his cracked ribs.

"My name is Sydney Bristow." She said as she slowly walked to within three feet of him, and leveled the silenced pistol to his forehead. "Michael Vaughn was my husband."

His body spasmed twice, once for each pull of the trigger as she applied the silenced double tap to his head, once in each eye, so she would be the last thing he would ever see on his way to hell.

She pulled a cloth out of her pocket and cleaned her fingerprints off of the pistol and dropped it next to his lifeless corpse, then sent a text to Director Webb. The cleaner who was just finishing up with the subcontractor that Webb had killed in the hospital would be up to deal with this mess shortly.

Sydney Bristow would cry for her dead husband, now avenged later. Right now she had to get her wounded partner off of this damned rooftop and down to the ER to have her injuries looked at.

"Come on, Ann, let's get you out of here." She said soothingly as she hoisted her partner up and got her arm over one shoulder as she headed for the access door, unsnapping the body armor and leaving the only evidence of Lone Vengeance on the rooftop for the cleaner to dispose of.

"I am Vengeance, I am the night..." Ann mumbled half consciously

"You also need to lay off the bear claws." Sydney whispered back, eliciting a laugh as she helped her partner down the stairs, the bond between them as partners almost unbreakable now.

Ops plan _Instant Karma_ was almost complete. The final phase would be placed in the hands of Richard Rodgers the next day.


	52. Beware My Power

**Chapter Fifty One  
****Beware My Power**

Special Agent Richard Alexander Rodgers got the phone call from the Director of the FBI personally almost precisely twelve hours after Detective Bristow brought her badly beaten partner into the ER to be treated. He rose to his feet within minutes of his quietly muttered "Yes, sir." and walked over to Jim Beckett who was waiting to be allowed in to see his daughter in the ICU. They had removed the breathing tube from down her throat and she was breathing on her own, it was a good sign.

"Jim, I just got the call. I've been put in charge of the detail to bring in the guy responsible for all this. I could call them back...I could stay if you need me to."

He didn't want to leave until he was certain she would pull through, every fiber of his being wanted to be in that room at her beside, wanted to be the one who had been shot instead, but now he had the chance to end it all for her, to free her forever from this weight she had carried since she was nineteen years old, that slowly poisoned everything in her life. Even them.

"I can look after things here. Go, Rick..." Jim Beckett replied, placing Kate's badge face up in his hands and closing his fingers around it's raised surface, "do it for Katie."

Jim turned his head away, no longer able to trust his own emotions, leaving Rick staring down at Kate's gold shield lying face up in his hand. He ran his thumb over it's raised numbers and letters for a moment before slipping it into his jacket pocket.

As he passed Detectives Ryan and Esposito, he said, "Ryan, Esposito, come with me."

His tone clearly a command and not a request, to which Javier Esposito bristled.

Before either man could vocalize a protest he stated brusquely, "I'm gonna go get the guy who did this. You want in, or not?"

With that, all protest immediately ceased as both Detectives rose from their seats, each placing a kiss on the heads of the respective sleeping women in their lives and followed him out of the waiting room into the elevator, their game faces were now on. Together, the three of them would finish this...for Beckett.

….

Two hours later

Rick strapped on his bulletproof vest, slipped into his FBI windbreaker and slipped the chain with his FBI badge over his head. He had been placed in charge of this detail at the personal request of the Director of the FBI, and he would see this through in Kate's name. Finish it for the woman he loved, lying comatose in Cedar Sinai's ICU fighting for her life. He retrieved Kate's gold shield and ghosted his thumb across her badge number before sliding it onto his belt.

"This is for you Kate, he whispered quietly, "when you wake up, when you come back to me, this will all be over...for both of us."

He allowed himself a moment to shed a single tear before he brushed it aside, cloaked himself in the impenetrable barrier that was _Special Agent Rodgers, FBI_ stepped out of the tactical vehicle and took active command of the detail.

….

When the door to William Bracken's New York City office suddenly burst open, Rick walked briskly right up to the Senator, his eyes practically burning with hatred and contempt.

"What is the meaning of this?" Bracken shouted indignantly as he rose from his office chair.

"Senator William Bracken," Rick stated coldly, betraying none of the dark, dangerous emotions he felt boiling within him,

"you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit first degree murder in the deaths of Johanna Beckett, Diane Cavanaugh, Jennifer Stewart, Scott Murray, FBI Agent Jacob Newstead, Gary McCallister, John Raglan, and Captain Roy Montgomery. For conspiracy after the fact in the unlawful death of FBI Agent Robert Armen, and for conspiracy to commit attempted murder in the attempted assassination of NYPD Detective Katherine Beckett."

As Bracken's hand twitched nervously toward the middle drawer of his desk and the 9mm pistol he kept there, his eye was drawn to the gaping maw of Rick's .40 caliber Sig Sauer pointed directly between his eyes. Rick had drawn it so fast that even Ryan and Esposito hadn't seen him do it. He fixated on that for a moment, then his gaze rose to meet the cold, dead, empty, pale blue eyes of the man sent to arrest him. Any resistance at all on his part and Rodgers' gun would speak certain, instantaneous death.

"Please, Senator, by all means, _resist,_" Rick stated in the coldest tone the two detectives had ever heard directed from one human being to another, "give me a reason."

In that instant, as Agent Rodgers spun him around searched him and tightly cinched the handcuffs onto his wrists behind his back, William Bracken knew that he had been beaten.

"You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to be represented by an attorney, if you cannot afford one, then one will be provided for you by the state. Do you understand these rights?"

Moments later, Bracken was led unceremoniously down the steps of his office building, in full view of the press toward the waiting FBI Suburban. As he carefully adjusted the man's head to place him in the vehicle Rick whispered quietly into his ear in a calm quiet voice yet so filled with cold malice, without a single trace of human emotion that it chilled his blood.

"If Kate Beckett dies, you won't live to see another sunrise, count on it."

He slammed the door shut, pounded on the roof of the SUV, and watched it pull away to join the motorcade on its way to the nearest police precinct. He pulled Kate's badge off of his belt and once again caressed the raised letters and numbers on its surface.

"It's over Kate, justice will be served. I wish you were here to see it." he said quietly, clutching her badge to his chest like the talisman it was before sliding it carefully back onto his belt under his windbreaker.

He climbed into the back seat of Ryan and Espo's police cruiser when it pulled up to him. As Espo started up the gumball the tears had already begun to fall. Neither Ryan nor Espo spoke a word, as nothing needed to be said.

….

When Richard Rodgers passed the two armed guards and entered Kate's hospital room, he stepped quietly to Jim Beckett's side and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"It's done, Jim. The man responsible for all of this misery won't be walking away."

"Thank you Rick."

"Go get some rest, Jim. I can take it from here."

If it had been anyone else but the one man Jim Beckett knew in his heart loved his Katie as much as he did, no earthly force could have dragged him from this spot, but he rose from the chair by Kate's bedside and patted Rick's arm gently. He knew the younger man was in his own special brand of hell, just like he was.

Rick was right about one thing, though, he needed to be elsewhere. He needed to call his sponsor because he didn't just want to drink, he wanted to drink himself into oblivion, and he knew that was no way to honor his daughter. Just like it had been no way to honor his wife all those years before, they both deserved better, and he knew that now.

As Jim slowly made his way out of the room to the door, his cell phone in hand, Rick took off his FBI windbreaker and Kevlar vest and dropped them onto the floor by her bedside before dropping heavily into the chair that Kate's father had just vacated. He removed Kate's badge from his belt and placed it on the pillow next to her head before brushing a light kiss to her forehead.

"Justice has been served for your mother, for Jake, for all of them. I served the arrest warrant personally." he said, as the tears once again began to well in his eyes.

"Bracken is going to jail. It's over, Kate...you're free...you're finally free." he choked out as his tears broke loose and began to fall. As he finally let the darkness fall away and began to break down.

"All you have to do now is wake up. I just need you to come back to me."

"I love you Kate...always."

"Please wake up."


	53. Let There Be Light

**Chapter Fifty Two  
Let There Be Light**

Kate Beckett felt weighted down as one by one her senses began to slowly check in. The first to begin reporting to her was her sense of smell with the all too familiar antiseptic odor she remembered from her last hospital stay. Next came her hearing as she slowly began to hear what she thought was a rhythmic beeping and her father's voice echoing as if far away calling her Katie and trying to soothe her. The scent of his familiar aftershave wafted over her..made her feel safe. She began to feel what felt like somebody holding her hand, but her senses were still dulled and she felt tired, so very tired.

_In her mind's eye she thought she could see a little red haired girl beckoning to her from afar, a sad expression on her gaunt little face, tears forming in her blue eyes. She looked familiar but in her drug addled state, Kate couldn't quite place her._

….

Recent memories began to wash over Kate as if in a dream.

The morning sun, the pain of the bullet, Rick kneeling over her in the grass telling her he loved her and begging her not to die. She tried to lift her eyelids, tried to move, heard the beeping become faster, more insistent, but then she felt a tingle in her arm and drifted slowly back into sleep. The world seemed too far away and far too scary and her eyelids were just so very, very heavy.

_The little red haired girl seemed to shrink in fear from her painful memories, so she built walls to keep the painful, scary memories away...to keep the little girl safe, the child smiled a little but still there was sadness in her baby blue eyes, like something, or someone, was missing..._

….

_"I love you Kate...always."_

_"Please wake up."_

_Rick's voice was calling out to her as if from across an impassable chasm, sorrow, emptiness, and pain dripping from every syllable. In spite of being ensconced in her warm, white, peaceful cocoon, with every fiber of her being wanting to stay just a little bit longer, his words stirred her heart and pulled at her soul. _

_The little red haired girl took her hand and pointed in the direction of Rick's voice and nodded, so Kate shattered the walls she had carefully constructed to keep the dark and painful memories away. The little red haired girl started walking in the direction from which his voice had come, turned, smiled at her and beckoned for her to follow._

_Her partner was out there, somewhere...lost in darkness...alone and in pain._

_She had to find him, she had to, even if it meant facing her fears and her demons._

_She couldn't leave him out there...He needed her, so she followed the little red haired girl away from her safe white cocoon and out into the gathering darkness..._

…_._

Kate Beckett slowly, carefully opened her eyes to the world a little at a time. First she heard the constant beeping of the heart monitor, then the warble of the hospital PA system off in the distance. When she opened her eyes all the way, she saw Rick, his head down on his right arm on the rolling table by her bed, his left hand clutching hers softly in his sleep.

When she looked over his shoulder near the door in her darkened room, she saw the little red haired girl from her dream standing by the door, looking longingly at Rick's sleeping form. It wasn't until that moment, seeing them both together, that she finally realized who it was.

"Goodbye Alexis," Kate whispered softly, a tear coursing slowly down her cheek "I'll do my best to look after your daddy for you, I promise."

Alexis Castle smiled softly, nodded her pretty little red head, then turned and slowly faded from sight.

….

"How the hell did he escape?" Richard Webb hissed into his cell phone. "All of his money was cut off, and his mercenaries are either dead or in custody themselves!"

The answer he got on the other end of the line was not the one he wanted to hear.

"Get into his father's finances, see if he's behind this, I'm not sure he is, but I wouldn't put it past him, I'd do it for mine."

When he got an affirmative over the line, he added.

"Keep it out of the media as much as possible, make it sound like he's in protective custody because of death threats, keep his lawyer on ice too...gently of course."

"Yes sir." said the man on the other end in a crisp military fashion.

"Don't _'yes sir'_ me, just _find _him!" Webb snapped before closing the line.

….

Richard Rodgers was quietly reading to Kate's sleeping form from Storm Fall as he had been for the past two days since he returned from arresting William Bracken. He had been off the grid since his return, his cell phone turned off. Catching brief catnaps when he could at her bedside, otherwise he read to her in a way he hadn't done since before his daughter died. He hadn't actually read one of his books in years, he never had a reason to.

He still hadn't given her the set of his books he had dug out of storage and signed for her, they were waiting, gift wrapped on the top shelf of his closet. He had intended to give them to her for her birthday, but cases got in the way, then their big fight, the timing never seemed to be right. After the dust settled, she had seemed to be content to read the ones in his study.

He had found this paperback edition in the hospital's gift shop on one of his few forays out of her room to use the bathroom and freshen up, change into the clothes his mother had brought him, at Jim Beckett's insistence.

Considering Kate had yet to open her eyes or utter a syllable he was touched by how worried her dad was for him. He hadn't seen Kate's eyes flutter open, she hadn't spoken a word for half an hour, entranced by the touch of his hand, and the soft tones of his voice, a softness she hadn't thought him capable of. Unbeknownst to everyone, he had been asleep when she woke up before.

"How _does_ wind gather up hair, anyway?" she whispered, squeezing his hand.

Rick nearly dropped the book on the floor, a twitch of his hand sent it sliding onto the table.

"Kate!" he choked out somewhere between a sob and a hoarse whisper.

"Oh, Kate...you're awake...thank God...Kate..." He couldn't take his eyes off of her as he kissed the knuckles on her hand in his, followed by a quick but passionate kiss to her lips.

"I got him, Kate...for you. The man behind all of this...the one who ordered the hit on your mother...on you...slapped the cuffs on him, personally. It's over Kate, it's finally over, justice has been served...you're free."

Kate stared at him for a moment, her heart welling up with a dozen different emotions at once before she burst into tears as he brushed his forehead to hers.

….

William Bracken woke in a dark room, still in his orange prison jumpsuit, slowly sliding back to full consciousness. He dimly recalled being in transit from the federal courthouse after his arraignment to Riker's Island to await his trial. He had been denied bail due to the nature of his crimes and his potential as a flight risk. He smiled a little to himself. His father had obviously pulled some strings, hired some one to break him out. He would be back one day to have his revenge, no matter how long it took. Even in a coma, fighting for life from a sniper's bullet she had reached out to ruin his plans.

Kate Beckett would die, if he had to do it himself.

He knew it was a petty childish kind of hate, he'd been soundly beaten, would ever again walk the halls of power, hell he would be lucky to get out of the United States and into a non-extradition country. But it was his hate, it would give him purpose in his exile.

The door to his room opened, and a hand reached for the the light switch, a tall, leggy strawberry blonde woman in a professional suit complete with pencil skirt and three inch pumps was glaring at him, eyes burning with contempt for him. Her face seemed familiar, but he just couldn't place it.

"Good you're up," she said, as she raised a silenced handgun in a weaver stance and took aim at his forehead, "I wanted you to be awake for this."

"Wait!" Bracken shouted in terror, "What are you doing?"

"This is for my _daughter_, you son of a bitch." she said coldly before she pulled the trigger twice, causing his body to spasm before he fell dead to the floor.

"Put his body on ice for a couple of days for the dissolving bullets to do their thing, then leave this piece of garbage in the 12th Precinct's jurisdiction for them to find." she told the man in the other room in the clipped tone of one used to giving orders, "Leave no traces to either Webb or to anyone connected to Kate Beckett."

The scars from the stab wounds in her back itched, they were over a decade old, it was a familiar ache. She had chosen a new name, a new job and a new identity, and had answered the call as part of Project Archangel, but Webb knew nothing about this unsanctioned op. This was personal.

Kate would be safe and happy, and that was all that mattered. She could not reveal her existence to her daughter any more than Richard Webb could reveal his to his son. Too much time had gone by, Kate would never understand the path she had chosen to keep her and her father safe, she was no longer the mother her daughter remembered. There was no going back, it was better this way.

Johanna Beckett was long dead. She was Jessica Bennet now.

The End?

* * *

Worry not, faithful readers, there will be an epilogue or maybe two coming soon. Love me or hate me now, but I will be tying up the remaning loose ends soon.

Shutterbug5269


	54. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Kate Beckett was heartbroken when she learned that she would no longer be able to meet the physical fitness requirements to be a New York City Police Detective. When the sniper's bullet had fragmented on impact with her rib cage, it had spared her heart from serious damage, which saved her life, but one of the larger fragments had lodged in the lower corner of her left lung and the operation to remove it had cost her a quarter of her lung capacity on that side. At first, when Dr. Corday had explained to her that she would likely never be able to return to work, she flat out refused to believe it.

With Rick's unflinching support, she worked herself to the bone over the course of that summer pushing herself hard every day, even though she was unable to run as fast or for as long, and she found herself out of breath a lot more often than she used to be. In her heart she knew something was wrong with her physically, but she was stubborn, and she was prideful and she wanted her gold shield back, wanted back what William Bracken's hired sniper had taken from her.

Sadly for her, it was not meant to be.

The day she took the NYPD physical fitness exam and failed it, Kate was inconsolable. She shut herself in her room at the loft, cried herself to sleep and didn't get out of bed for three days. It was like her entire world had come crashing down and taken everything from her.

Richard Rodgers took a month of unpaid leave from the FBI to stay with her. No matter how many times she told him to go away and leave her alone, he refused to let her give up on life. He made sure she got out of bed, exercised and ate. Made her go outside in the sunshine until gradually she realized that her life was _not_ over, that he loved her, and would support her in whatever she wanted to do next.

Not long after that, he took her out to dinner at Le Cirque, got down on one knee and slipped an engagement ring on her finger, in a proposal that was both big and intimate. Kate burst into tears when she said yes, and so did he. It had been a step in their relationship that had been a long time coming.

That fall, Kate was officially honorably discharged from the NYPD, with the thanks of a grateful city for over a decade of faithful service. The position of lead detective for the 12th Precinct Homicide Squad was offered to both Javier Esposito and to Kevin Ryan, but both of them declined out of deference to their friend. It just didn't feel right to either of them.

In the end the promotion was granted to Detective First Class Sydney Bristow, who had since severed her ties with the CIA. Serving two masters had never appealed to her, so Richard Webb was true to his word and let her go without argument now that her current assignment had been completed. She had the fresh start she had wanted when this whole business began, and had the full support of what was now _her_ team.

Including her partner, Detective Third Class Ann Hastings, who had hung up the Lone Vengeance costume for good after the incident in the parking garage, so her writer, Paul Whitaker merely rebooted his series with a retooled Lone Vengeance. Kick ass detective by day, and superhero by night. They were married the following summer.

Pursuant to Executive Order 13599, the President of the United States secretly reinstated Project Archangel to active status. As he was now too prominent a public figure to lead such a clandestine organization not to mention unconfirmed sources in government circles stated he had been seen in the company of Broadway diva Martha Rodgers, with rumors in the tabloids that they had been dating for months, and an engagement ring had recently exchanged hands, Richard Webb appointed a successor in his place.

A charismatic, shrewd, hard charging woman named Jessica Bennet, who had risen in the clandestine services over the past decade, seemingly from out of nowhere. But then again, so had Webb once upon a time, according to unofficial reports which were sketchy at best. She would have to work out her personal demons just like he did, and maybe one day he hoped she would be able to get back the family she had walked away from to keep them safe. He hoped she wouldn't make the same mistake he did, and wait four decades.

As is the way of such things, Special Agent Richard Rodgers' tenure as the FBI liaison for the NYPD came to an end and he was being offered several different options for advancement. One of which was the job of Deputy Director which would require him to relocate back to Washington DC. Another was as the Director of the New York City Field office. which sparked the following conversation:

"Kate this is a pretty big step." Rick said, still unsure if he was ready to go back to DC.

"I know, Rick." Kate replied as she looked longingly out the window at a city that had been her home for her entire life.

Rick looked up from where he was sitting, at the forlorn look on her face, got up from his desk and sat next to her on the couch.

"I know it's hard contemplating leaving after living here for so long." He said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

"It isn't just that, Rick," Kate replied, "but I've been independent for so long, and I'm not sure I can be just an FBI agent's wife. Just sit at home either here or in DC, worried about that day when you don't come home...when..." she trailed of as her tears took over, because she knew how dangerous the job could be, even in the upper echelons, and now she wouldn't be at his side when he was out there.

"I have an idea." he whispered in her ear. When he explained it to her, she looked at him incredulously, as if he had suddenly grown another head.

"Are you sure?" she asked timidly, unsure of herself for the first time in her life.

"Absolutely." Rick replied.

….

**Six Months Later**

Black Pawn Publishing presents:

Heat Wave

By Katherine Beckett

Coming this fall to booksellers everywhere!

Katherine Beckett Rodgers attended the official launch for _Heat Wave_ not long after the advertisement came out with her husband Richard Rodgers, director of the New York Field Office for the FBI on her arm. She still couldn't believe that her first novel was coming out to rave reviews.

She had been hesitent at the beginning, in spite of all of his reassurances to the contrary that he was enthusiastic about her taking up his old profession. One that caused him far too much pain to ever contemplate taking up again himself. No matter how hard he tried, he just found himself unable to summon the words. In the end, she decided if he could not find the words, then she would find them for him.

She had chosen the name of her protagonist, Nikki Heat from the name Rick had given the file folder for her mother's case on his smart board all those years ago. She thought it sounded like a stripper name, but in the end she found it fitting to have a small piece of Richard Castle in her first novel, just like she had had in her real life. Along with her unofficial partner, Jameson Rook, a maverick, exiled FBI Agent, Nikki and her team investigated murder, and fought criminal scum in the City of New York.

It went on to become an international best seller within a day of opening sales, spawning another three books in the series and a deal with Black Pawn for more. She went on to consult on cases for both the NYPD and the FBI and later wrote a tell all account of the Armen/Beckett murders. It was at times like these that she tended to miss her mother the most. She knew her mom would be proud of her success and she wished that she could share it with her.

Though Kate never seemed to get a good look at her, a nondescript strawberry blonde in her early fifties made a brief appearance at every one of her book launch parties, observing from the shadows with a proud, but forlorn expression on her face. Paula Haas, her publicist had taken to calling her "The Gray Lady" for the color of the suits she wore.

It was the closest Jessica Bennet would allow herself to get to her old life. She had enemies of her own now, ones who would have no qualms about coming at her sideways through her family if they knew she had any. It wasn't enough, but it would have to be enough for now.

Her daughter was safe, and she was happy. That was all that mattered.


End file.
